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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2

summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!

The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath.

The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line.

You weren’t exactly happy about this.

The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach.

Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you.

Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —

the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that.

If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily.

Maybe.

Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared.

But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee.

Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one.

She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger.

You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never.

You weren’t a child.

Just wanted to be one, sometimes.

Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed.

Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See.

He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time.

Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did.

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five.

Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention.

You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.

You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?

Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you.

That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.

The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways.

A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong.

The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat.

At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall.

Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention —

and you slipped.

The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge.

The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height.

You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally.

Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle.

You’d made it?

No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening!

Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd.

But.

One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.

You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.

You were chosen.

It wanted you as its rider.

If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.

The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly.

You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw.

Firstborn daughter excellence.

Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong.

Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling.

“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”

The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you.

You were all alone.

The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement.

Right.

You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life.

Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.

Flying! He wanted to fly!

The first flight sealed the bond, after all.

You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step.

The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night.

The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine.

You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you.

And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos.

No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun.

Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.

When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory?

Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.

Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.

And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. .

Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up.

Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this.

But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!

“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”

Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick.

Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”

“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”

The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.”

“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”

“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”

“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”

You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core.

“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.”

All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’

You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.

One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood.

An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.

“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”

Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”

What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”

This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in.

His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation.

He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child.

It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first.

Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.

Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.

His teenage daughter. Scared him.

Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place.

The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore.

He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely.

And then he didn’t.

“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”

Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”

Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut.

His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”

“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”

Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”

This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before.

Here we go again, Jake thought.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”

“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”

He grimaced. “I have to—”

“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”

“They trust me plenty.”

“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”

“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”

“They won’t if you never tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”

“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.”

“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”

Because he had gone too far already with the older three.

Trial and error.

He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step.

A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning.

Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.

He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.”

Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.

“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”

“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”

“Dad—”

Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”

Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”

He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”

“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”

Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.

Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”

“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.

“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?”

Silence.

The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—”

Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”

“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”

He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”

His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.

Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.

A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face.

When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble.

“Neytiri?”

She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear.

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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dustofthedailylife · 7 months

Text

Genshin Men as Influencers

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Kazuha, Cyno, Kaeya, Thoma, Tighnari x (gn!) Reader

Summary: What type of influencer would they be. What do they post.

Tags: Fluff, modern AU, short headcanons

A/N: This was a random idea I got today that I needed to get out of my system. And it got longer than I anticipated, oopsie.

Alhaitham | Bookstagrammer

He is neither someone who wants to stand in front of a camera talking nor does he desire to interact with people much. Yet he has this desire to share his thoughts about the books he reads with someone. When you propose the idea of becoming a bookstagrammer to him he is at first very dismissive about the idea, but eventually caves and creates an account. As it turns out he enjoys it more than he originally thought he would. He writes book reviews, does book hauls, and critical literature commentary. Reels are not his thing and he only posts pictures. His account blew up when he posted a selfie of him while reading a book. To this day he has not the faintest idea why that is what made his account grow exponentially. He turns to you whenever he gets DMs or comments that annoy him. He will sometimes ramble for half an hour about a single comment and explain in-depth why what that person wrote is utterly stupid.

Ayato | Fashion Influencer

He is predominantly a fashion influencer and model. Frequently posting pictures and reels of outfits, hauls as well as model and runway jobs. He is often described as the influencer who "effortlessly combines casual and business chic and turns it into a fashion statement". Always the best-dressed man around, no matter where he goes. Both his enchanting looks as well as his enigmatic personality draw his fans in. He has his own clothing brand for his trademark "casual business chic" which is quite successful. Every new collection is immediately sold out a day after launch. Yet, despite his fame, you had never seen or heard of him before. You randomly met him at a local bar where he offered to buy you a drink. You talked to him all evening and had just exchanged numbers with him when his face suddenly popped up on the TV screen at the bar. You had to do a double-take and reconfirm that the man on TV was indeed the one sitting in front of you right now. He had seen your glance and was now smiling back at you smugly, visibly enamored by the confusion that was written all over your face. For once he was happy someone didn't outright recognize him and just genuinely interacted with him without any second thoughts. And he fell for you right then and there.

Kaveh | Lifestyle Blogger

This man has so many things he loves he can't just decide on one thing. So he does kind of everything and his followers love him for it. He is smart, good-looking, artistically gifted, enjoys food, drink, fashion, and is into the latest gossip. His feed is a bit of everything, art gallery visits, food posts, fashion photos including OOTD, motivational quotes and more. He has a loyal fanbase that would do anything for him. They lovingly refer to him as "babygirl" all the time. When you become a couple he incorporates you into his posts and videos as well which lands you a couple of very angry DMs of fans who have formed a parasocial relationship with your boyfriend. And while you just ignore them, Kaveh absolutely can't and won't tolerate this behavior towards you so he replies to them from your account with an angry picture and a long DM. In all honesty, he is more upset over the messages than you are.

Wriothesley | Fitness Blogger

He is your classic fitness blogger and personal trainer. He posts training videos, nutritional advice posts as well as gym pictures of himself and fitness modeling campaigns he gets invited to. And he is quite successful at what he does. When you start dating you're not at all surprised when you learn what he does for a living. A man with his physique? Of course, he would be successful. You mutually decide to keep your relationship out of the public eye. Both because he wouldn't want you to get exposed to potential negative press or hateful DMs. But of course, paparazzi are more watchful than anyone ever could be. So naturally a picture of him and you kissing soon adorns every gossip magazine front page including your name and Instagram profile (because of course they also found that out...). Not long after #WrioYN starts trending. The posts under the hashtag are a mixed bag of either excited fans and positive articles or angry fans and negative press, who say that you aren't good enough for him. Since your relationship is out of the bag now, Wriothesley decides to take you with him to the next red carpet event where he provocatively and fiercely kisses you in front of everyone to show the world what he thinks about their opinion. You're his and he is yours, and no one would ever be able to change that.

Neuvillette | Food Critic

He is one of the most famous food critics around and gets invited to various restaurants all around the world. He writes reviews for the things he eats and drinks and rates the restaurants without mercy. If your restaurant gets a bad review from him you might as well lock the door and close forever. He rose to fame through a video that went viral where he taste-tested a variety of different water brands, grading them on a scale from one to ten as if it was the finest wine. At first, people were amused by the videos and created memes about it until it eventually gave him so much publicity that he was invited to restaurants. So he organically rose to fame practically overnight without even realizing it. This already led to some less nice situations where some angry restaurant owners insulted him in public for ruining their reputation or hate comments under his posts. He didn't understand what he did wrong or why they were so upset with him and he always looked for the fault in himself, socially isolating himself as a consequence. You're always there to lend your ear and shoulder to cry on to him when situations like these arise. He may look tough but you know he has a soft and fragile heart and often takes negative comments about his person way too much to heart.

Zhongli | Food Blogger

He is a food blogger, mostly known for his expensive taste and aesthetic tea brewing videos and it even expands beyond that to clothing and his appearance in general. When watching him prepare all sorts of dishes one could be inclined to think he has all the time in the world. Doing live streams where he brews tea or cooks for six hours or more is not a rarity. His followers love his insight and knowledge about all the ingredients he uses. He always sprinkles in little fun facts, trivia and random bits of information. Being his partner therefore also means you always get the privilege to have the most delicious and fragrant food served to you. If you didn't know better you would think he is a renowned Michelin chef. Food is definitely his love language. Sometimes you and him would do couple cooking streams together and his community is all over you two. You're receiving fanart and people even write fanfics about you two. Generally Zhongli, much like himself, gathers a very level-headed, polite and loyal community around him.

Kazuha | Travel Blogger

He never stays in the same place for long, so much so that at this point his followers aren't even sure he owns a home at all. His feed and stories are filled with magnificent locations from all over the world. From sunsets over to stunning mountain views and sandy beaches. His life feels like a dream. And his followers live it vicariously through him. Always starts his day by posting an inspirational haiku in his story and with supportive words to his followers. The most sunshine and feel-good influencer around and most certainly a good role model. You accompany him on most of his travels but mostly play the role of the camera person and photographer for him since he wants to keep your relationship private. Until one day he pulls you in front of the camera during one of his livestreams and passionately kisses you on the lips before blushing and turning the stream off right after. When you ask him what made him change his mind he tells you that his heart ached due to the rumors of him and another influencer dating and he wanted to get them out of the world once and for all. Needless to say, your heart and the press are on fire the next day.

Cyno | Entertainer

Of course, Cyno is an entertainer. His intimidating looks paired with an impeccable sense of humor immediately resonated with people all over the place. He quickly garnered a large audience both on Tiktok and Youtube and uploads a new comedic skit at least once a week. He also occasionally does some pack-opening streams whenever new TCG card collections come out. You're always there to support him in his endeavors and he is extremely thankful for that. You're always the first to whom he tells his ideas and sometimes you even get cameos in his skits. Some evenings you sit together while playing cards and brainstorming about new video ideas for him.

Kaeya | Fashion Blogger

Fashionista and icon through and through. He loves the spotlight. And his smooth-talking and sly nature has people on their knees for him all over the internet. Unfortunately, that causes him to have the most obsessed and delusional fans around. He mostly posts OOTD posts, fashion inspo and clothing hauls as well as various photographs of modeling jobs. He often goes live on Instagram and Tiktok to interact with his fans. Sometimes you ask yourself how he even manages to hold a conversation with them, considering that most of the comments and chats he gets are simping. But he is just a natural-born influencer. Knowing his bold nature it doesn't surprise you when he pulls you in for a long and intense kiss on the red carpet one day. Until now you had publicly taken on the role of his manager to disguise yourself. It was an idea that came from his actual manager. The reason for that is to divert the attention away from you and spare you from the wrath of his crazy fans. Seems like he finally grew tired of the act. His smug smile, the flurry of flashing cameras around you, and the feeling of his lips pressed against yours were proof enough of that.

Thoma | Food Blogger

Another food blogger and a really good one at that. The handsome blonde mostly posts aesthetic cooking videos, cooking ASMR videos, quick meal-prep recipes for a busy day-to-day life, as well as comfort food recipes. His fans say his tasty creations aren't the only snack on screen though. Interviewers always ask him about his opinion on what his fans say about him, which always causes him to laugh with a shy smile and a blush across his soft cheeks. He also often posts stories and gives some tips for chores and various other activities like knitting, cleaning, and other useful lifehacks. Occasionally he also uploads pictures of new recipes he is working on behind the scenes in his story. All of this earned him the title of the "Malewife Blogger" quite early on in his career and he fully embraced the title. He even has merch designs referring to the nickname his fans gave him. You are always the first one who gets to hear about his new ideas or gets to review and taste-test his recipes. You often tinker around on recipes with him until late at night. You also help him with the launch of his first cookbook by typing out all the recipes and editing the cover image of him standing behind the kitchen with his signature red apron and smile. And you would agree with his fans, the biggest snack in that cookbook is right on the cover.

Tighnari | Garden & Wildlife Blogger

He blogs about all sorts of wildlife, survival tips, and environment protection and gives gardening tips. His sassy and incredibly sarcastic nature and reactions to some comments are what draw people to him. He makes people aware of how ecosystems work and how to live in harmony with them. He sometimes posts reaction videos and stitches in reply to people treating nature in a disrespectful manner and goes on entire tirades about it as well. He suggests environmentally friendly products and eventually even launches his own brand of environmentally friendly cleaning agents he produces himself. Needless to say, it's a complete hit among his fans. You are supportive of his videos and often help him with filming and editing them. You went on trips with him even before he started his social media career so seeing him become famous and successful with what he enjoys most fills you with joy.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin brainrot #alhaitham x reader #ayato x you #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #cyno x reader #kaeya x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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sashi-ya · 2 months

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a valentine's mini story 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑴 trafalgar law x f! reader

🩰 tw: a soft sfw story. spoilers from the last anime episode (not manga). happy valentine's day! 💕 🦢 wc: 923

“I LOVE YOU; I LOVE YOU; I LOVE YOU (NAME)-YA!” “ME???”

If there is something Law has passed are different types of “illnesses”; from amber lead to being feminized against his will. Now, as if that wasn’t enough, the truth serum had been injected into his body and his lips couldn’t get sealed any longer.

Your kneels hit the ground, with widen orbs and opened mouth.

“What- what did you gave him?!” you scream, kicking and trying to be let go. Just two people have fooled you two, and now you are taken hostage by a guy of who knows how many meters tall.

The era of piracy is so full of this random -and annoying- devil fruit users that sometimes it can take you by surprise. Today, was the day a couple of unknown pirates decided to mess with you two.

“Oh, just the Truth Serum. Isn’t it amazing? This fruit came to me like a gift of the Gods!” a lady, quite peculiar, laughs loudly at her victim. Who could have said someone that powerful like Trafalgar Law could be defeated so easily?

Her filthy hand grazes Law’s forehead. He is drenched in sweat, also kneeling down. He is desperate to help you, but her unstoppable tongue can’t stop saying how much he loves you.

And that, to you -but probably not for the rest of the crew if they were there - is surprising.

“He seems to love you, mh? Such good timing for Valentines! Well, then, in order to spare her life, he will cooperate… right? You have those Poneglyph right?” that villainess says, slapping Law’s cheek.

Law feels miserable and absolutely embarrassed; not even his strong Haki can undo the spell of such stupid fruit ability. Or maybe it is also relieving to finally confess to you?

“Law, don’t- don’t worry- I’ll be fine! Don’t give her shit!” you scream, looking away. You, who are also deeply in love with him but never confessed, can’t look him in the eyes.

“No, I won’t let them touch you any longer. You are mine! I won’t let them hurt you!” he shouts, desperate. Never -and probably ever again- you will hear those words being screamed into the world like the public statement of pure romance.

You dare to cross sights with him, even if in pain as that brute is holding you like a kitten by your shirt collar up in the air. Your gazes are so intense, the world around seems to disappear for a moment. Why it has to be in this situation?

“Law! I am in l-!”

You take a big gasp of air, and when your tongue begins moving, ready to give him your own confession… something happens.

“HAYAAAAAAH!!!”

A big ball of white fur covered in bright orange suit appears to save the day; a strong kick to the back of that villain sends her flying away. Law has enough time to break himself the spell, as well as using a little rock to exchange your body for it.

It doesn’t take much more for Penguin and Shachi to give Law his beloved Kikkoku; a blade he uses to slash -but not hurt- both attackers. They both ask themselves why their heads are floating around detached from their necks, but that’s just a little taste of what it means to mess with a man like him.

Soon enough, and to your amusement, his arm surrounds your waist and quickly he runs away from “the scene”.

A coward? Not really. There was something Law needed to do, now that the truth has seen the light.

“L-Law? Are- are you ok? Stop. Stop!” you demand, asking for him to put you on your feet.

He tries to find the farthest spot; the secluded place possible. It’s enough with you listening to his “pathetic” confession -and the rest of the island too.-

When he finally puts you down, his inked hands run through all of your body. He needs to make sure you are fine. You are, indeed, more than fine… you have just realized he loves you as much as you love him.

“Scan!” he takes Kikkoku to asses your body in depth, but your hand intercepts him from doing so.

“Stop…” you sigh. Again, and as always, he is searching for every single way to avoid speaking about his feelings. “Law… it’s ok, I- I do feel the same…” you murmur, softly pushing the hilt of his katana down.

Law takes a deep breath. He can’t run away. Or he can?

The surgeon ponders the possibility of escaping from there. But wasn’t for his own body acting on behalf of his love, he might have probably done it. Luckily, his hand reaches your cheek, and his feet walk towards you.

“I love you too, Law” you repeat, looking down but still enjoying the delicate touch of his hand. A touch that migrates from cheek to your chin, lifting your head up to encounter your lips with his.

“I didn’t plan for this to go this way, (Name)-ya. I had flowers prepared for tonight… I really planned on confessing tonight; it’s just that my plans always get ruined”

“My sweat Law, when will they let you plan in peace? Did the kiss part came into the original plan?” you ask, coming even closer to his lips.

“No… I- I actually didn’t think you could-“

“My bad, it seems I am also going to ruin your plans this time. Now please, kiss me and never let me go”

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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month

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Honestly why even bother making Jason afrolatino if you're not gonna write him as he is in canon when that's what actually'd make him work good rep for us.What i mean by this is

His ego is huge,he's super tough and an edgelord,has anger issues and brutal ass tactics and is a morally gray vigilante but he's ALSO a huge woman respecter to the point he thinks they're better than men,is extremely kind with a huge soft side and his exterior attitude and Red Hood are trauma responses that're framed as valid on his end so he's not the 'Scary Black Man' stereotype and with the exception of the vigilante part this is actually a pretty common personality type for irl black men-Important note that i don't fall under the attitude but i AM a black man(and woman)

He's been a huge nerd since he's debut in both meanings of it-He's a genius who was a star student in school and loves classical literature,theater and speaking articulately and poetically but just happens not to 24/7 since he's a comic book character,not a Shakespearen one

And his soft sunshine boy with hidden depths Robin self is a critical part of making him as black latino work-You can't go with the retcon of him as a mini thug because it's extremely dangerous stereotyping

Duke as his favorite brother-It's erasure with white gringo Jason but even worse and just stupid because both of them being black would it EVEN BETTER writing they're eachother's number one Batboy pick.Ain't no nigga picking Tim when the only other black guy in the factor is Right There and fuck ya aus,keep Jason white in them and leave afrolatino Jason out of your mess

He hasn't expressed a particular preference for girls he likes but HAS for the ones he dosen't and it's preppy perfect judgemental ones who try to 'tame' him so rip all y'all's white X Readers LMFAO.Worth noting that his canon girlfriends have been a half cambodian tomboy(Rose),an edgyptian butch(Artemis)and a darkskin black woman(Dana)and that he's actively rejected a white blonde girl on the basis of her being too normal(Isabel)and Kory post deblackification so i think it's obvious where his tastes lie

You CANNOT make him and Roy or Batcest a thing-I don't think i need to explain why pairing up a white man who knew an afrolatino since he was 14 and him grown with a daughter and putting him in incest is violently antiblack

Poverty is not inherently bad in black or latino characters and there was a point in canon where it was used as simply an element in Jason's story instead of demonization so use that edition.But making him a drunkard,a smoker or a sex fiend is 100% perpetuating stereotypes and he's canonically the opposite of all three so again,sometimes things that are canon are better

Him being tall and super jacked and intimidating looking can actually enchance it-He uses it to his advantage to get people he dosen't like to fuck off because they buy into the propaganda and gives him more deepness with the rest of his personality

This includes him being a real gamer and his neapolitan food addiction and your headcanons on his other tastes should follow their lead-His favorite characters should be black and latino ones(His favorite Marvel hero is Miles Morales,it's canon to ME),he should listen to black and latino artists,he should eat black and latino food and know how to make it for that matter,etc

Back to a Duke situation-You also can't make a white woman instead of Talia his adoptive mom for obvious reasons and imo if you're gonna make him and Stephanie besties,she should be black too for that black best friends and found siblings rep(She works as a black woman as much as he does a black man and i'll make a manifesto of that like i did him if asked).This applies to the Team Dad Jason take too in the sense that he should mentoring Damian and Nell and Tiffany since they're Batgirls instead of white kids

In summary what i'm trying to say is:If you're going to see Jason as an afrolatino man,you need to go beyond just the aesthetic and little bits you feel like including because you think they're appealing and actually write him as an afrolatino man,as Jason Todd and not some random guy

@nogender-onlystars @willieoo @mayameanderings @desi-pluto @insomniac-jay @vulnonapixes-dc-corner

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linkemon · 4 months

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Toru Oikawa headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

• Relationship with Toru would be a bumpy and winding road, one that is sometimes nice and pleasant and then turns around and leads you through the worst forest you have ever seen in your life. I think Oikawa would fall in love with someone who blew his mind with their indifference towards him. It doesn't matter if you were a childhood friend or someone he happened to meet at highschool. It would be important for him whether you don't treat him like his fans do.

• Winning the hearts of the girls he could have easily wouldn't be a challenge at all. And the best things always require effort and work. He follows this philosophy in volleyball and it would be no different in the case of love.

• You can hit him on the shoulder and in the head with books for every stupid comment but if he sets his sights on you, you can be sure that he won't give up. A relationship with him would consist of flirtations that you wouldn't take seriously and rare, serious moments when you would feel that what he was saying was sincere and came from the heart. Of course, someone or something would always have to interrupt you.

• Have you styled your hair? He will destroy it. Is this a new hair tie? Now it's his, he'll keep it for good luck. Who gave him permission? He gave it to himself. Same case with casually adding -chan to your name...

• Hajime would be the greatest wingman in your relationship. For a long time he would say that Toru needs to take care of himself because he doesn't deserve you but eventually he would realize that you couldn't live without each other. He wouldn't push either of you to confess but he would certainly discreetly try to give you as much time alone as possible. And it's not easy to find excuses for so many Aobajosai members...

• Toru knows what he wants. And although you would have to wait to hear it in a serious and mature way, it would have been worth it. He would go for a walk with you somewhere on the boulevards, by the water with a nice view. Surrounded by the dim, night lights, he would tell you how he felt. And these would be sincere words. Different from those that he feeds many people on a daily basis. Thoughtful and adequate as always but not superficial, hidden in the depths of his mind when he thinks about your smile in his free time.

• Oikawa likes it when you take off his glasses and then kiss him. He jokes that it's a bit like a scene from a movie. And it's even better when your friends are watching. Let them be consumed by jealousy. One time Kageyama asked you if you were sure you knew what you were getting into.

• Half of the serves since you became a couple are dedicated to you. At training, in high school, he will shout about it loudly, as long as you are anywhere nearby. In more serious matches, when he got into the Argentine national team, he simply put two fingers to his lips and blew a kiss towards the audience. Half the fans were dying of delight before they finally realized you were in the bleachers.

• Sometimes it's hard to balance a career as a professional setter with daily responsibilities. You travel with Toru but for most part, your relationship is a long-distance type. You talk a lot on the phone and on video calls. You get as many discounts on airlines as possible to see each other as often as you can.

#oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru #haiykuu!!#haikyuu x reader #headcanons #25/7 #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #toru x reader #kageyama tobio #hajime iwaizumi

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zeroeightzeroone · 2 months

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hi! so idk if your request are open so if they aren’t feel free do delete this

so we know that in the love collection y/n and jisung feel really comfortable around each other and will go to each other for things but what if one day y/n didn’t tell jisung how she was feeling that day and cried in her room by herself? i just wanted to see how he’d react to that and his response

again u don’t have to respond to this!! ty ^__^

all ears - han jisung

love collection

genre: comfort, maybe a bit of angst?

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

warnings: readers' insecurities getting the best of her, self-deprecating language

notes: thank you for requesting!! i hope i did your request justice. (finally revealing y/n's roommate too)

wc ~2.9k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:

you feel dumb.

you feel stupid, absolutely stupid.

you hate the feeling with the utmost passion, but regardless of how much you detest it, it always seems to find a way back to haunt you months later, coming out from the depths of your mind into the forefront and creating a storm up there.

they're stupid thoughts.

thoughts that you shouldn't let get to you, but sometimes you can't help it. sometimes, they overpower you and silence your pleas to stop.

have you spoken to anyone about it? no.

your roommate, yunjin, has been on a work trip for the past couple of weeks, so you've had the apartment to yourself. no need to mask your emotions when you're home alone. on the other hand, jisung's schedule has been packed lately, and there is nothing new in his line of work. seungmin is on the same boat as your boyfriend; both share busy and separate schedules.

everyone has a busy life, and you don't want to burden them with things happening in your life.

when the b-word comes up in your passing thoughts, you can practically hear your boyfriend saying, "y/n, my love, don't invalidate yourself like that. you're not a burden, never. you're important to me; your thoughts and feelings are all important."

jisung always reminds you of how important you are to him. you know you could go to him for anything, and he'll be there to the best of his ability.

that's one of the many reasons why you love him so much.

the knowledge that he's there for you is one thing, but the one thing holding you back is yourself.

when you're in such a low and vulnerable state, you tend to shut yourself in, keep to yourself, and shield yourself away from others. you see yourself as an inconvenience or a burden.

the way you've rationalized it in your mind is that if you're tired of the shit happening in your own life, telling it to someone else would only tire them out as well. you didn't want them to grow tired on your behalf. it didn't seem worth it.

that feeling of self-doubt always pushes itself into the front lines from where it usually hides, creeping in the back.

you wanted to try and cope alone, get through this on your own, but you just couldn't. you tried to tell yourself it's no big deal and that they're just fleeting, meaningless thoughts that will go away and you'll be fine, but you know you're lying to yourself.

you know that ignoring your overwhelming emotions lately will only worsen them. it's been a week since those thoughts started again, and here you are, curled up in a ball underneath your comforter, pulling it up under your chin as the mental and emotional exhaustion hits its breaking point.

your cheeks are stained with tears, and your eyes are droopy and puffy. you were supposed to go to work today but called in sick. you didn't have it in you to face your work head-on today.

the moment you hung up the phone with your manager, you cried, sobbing into your comforter. you felt absolutely defeated calling in sick. you weren't even sick, you lied in order to stay home.

here you were, practically waving the white flag after the events of your life after your thoughts and feelings had beaten you down into a ball under your comforter. you hate yourself for calling in sick, feeling as if you should've just sucked it up and gone in, put on a mask to hide your emotions.

'so many people have it harder than you do, y/n. the fact you could even lie and call in sick is a privilege. look at all this privilege, and you're out here pouting, how selfish.'

you shut your eyes at the thought, nuzzling yourself further into the blanket as a tear squeezes itself free and down your skin.

'you can't even deal with your own feelings, your own thoughts, let alone some tiny ass inconveniences. pathetic.'

you feel stupid and weak. you feel like a crybaby.

your eyelids flutter closed as you sob into the thick comforter, letting out all the built-up frustrations in hopes that you'll feel better afterwards.

'j's one and only has notifications silenced. notify anyway?'

jisung's concern grows when he reads over the little notice at the bottom of your text conversation.

of course, he noticed you had been off the past couple of days, and when he asked what was up, you played it off as nothing, but it's jisung; he knows you like the back of his hand.

he didn't believe for one second that nothing was up. it was clear there was something, but he assumed you weren't in a place to talk to him about it yet, that you weren't ready yet. but now, you weren't even replying, let alone reading his messages.

jisung: good morning love, how did you sleep?

j's one and only: good morning i slept okay, how about you

jisung: i dreamt of you so i slept better than usual ;) i've got another busy day today, so i hope you have an amazing day my love

jisung: [photo attachment] i ate a bento box for lunch today

jisung: [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a b-side [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a skz-record

jisung: baby

jisung: y/n baby

he stares down at his phone, hoping to get a read receipt from you, but nothing. jisung finds himself swiping down the notification screen and swiping it away multiple times. on–probably–the fifth rotation, he pauses, an imaginary lightbulb flashing over his head.

jisung: i'm coming over

…

your sob session only further tired you out. you didn't have it in you to fight to stay awake, letting your heavy eyelids close as you cried to sleep around dinner time, curling up into a smaller ball as your tears soaked the comforter.

your eyes are puffy, your nose is runny and almost matches the flushed, red tint of your cheeks, your hair is dishevelled, and you have a prominent pout on your lips even in your sleep. the tears that fell from your eyes and stained your cheeks also bound your eyelashes together, as they glisten under the light of your bedside lamp.

a couple hours later, you're stirring awake, your head rolling left and right, and a tired groan leaves your lips. with a hum, you blink slowly as you come to full consciousness, and your brain is also slowly waking up from its resting state. after a brief stretch and a rush of endorphins flowing through your body, allowing you to relax, your limbs fall back into the mattress with a soft thump.

with a sigh, you roll your head to the side to look at the clock on the wall, registering that you've slept for a little over two hours and that there are a couple of hours left until midnight. you aren't starving, but you do feel like you need something to fill you up, so you roll out of bed and make your way into the kitchen to grab a light snack and a glass of water, snatching your phone off the bedside table before making your way out.

the moment your screen comes to life, you find a couple of missed messages from Jisung that you go to check first and send replies to.

j.one<3: [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a b-side [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a skz-record

j.one<3: baby

j.one<3: y/n baby

j.one<3: i'm coming over

you: :O i'm telling jyp also i just woke up from a nap so jibaby you should stay home and rest, i'm fine

"you're not fine."

you stop in your tracks while feeling like your heart has jumped out of your chest. a sharp gasp leaves you as your hand grips your shirt in utter shock.

walking out from the kitchen and standing across from you, the dark-haired boy's eyes are laced with worry and concern, and his lips pout the slightest bit as he looks at you.

"shit ji, you scared the shit out of me," you watch as he shuts his screen off, "what are you doing here?"

"it's friday," he pushes himself off the wall, "remember our little deal?"

you nod, mouth agape with realization. your little deal was that if jisung would come over on fridays when his weekend schedules were nonexistent or started later in the day, one of the reasons why he had a key to yours and yunjin's place.

jisung takes a few steps towards you, just enough to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head around as his eyes graze your face. meanwhile, you look up at him with doe-eyed eyes, confused. he lets go of your chin and moves to take your hand, pulling you behind him as he walks into the living area.

"sit," he nods towards the couch. you follow his words and take a seat. stay there. i'll be right back. i made you some food."

you mutter a small agreement as your boyfriend walks out of view. a couple moments later, he walks out from behind the couch with a bowl in one hand and a cup in his other, placing both dishes down on the coffee table before he sits beside you.

"ji–"

"eat," he's quick to cut you off, but he's also quick to notice how sharp his tone is. not wanting to come off wrong, he quickly adds, " please."

you stare at him, to which he flashes you a quick smile. you're still quite perplexed, but you listen to him anyway; plus, whatever he's whipped up looks quite good, and you can't resist.

your boyfriend watches you eat for a few minutes before reaching for the glass of water on the table. the water is ready and on standby for when you need it. with a small smile, you exchange your food for the water he's holding, taking gulps while he places the bowl back on the table, followed by the water.

"tell me, what's wrong?" jisung has an elbow propped up on the couch, his hand coming down to pat the side of your head and play with a couple of strands of your hair. your hair is quite tangled after waking up from a nap.

"nothings wrong," you deny.

he purses his lips together before continuing, "you've been quiet over text all day," he tips his chin, nodding towards your face, "the red, puffy eyes and tear stains don't exactly back up your statement."

your appearance only further proved to the round-chinned boy that something was definitely going on. along with the ones he previously mentioned, your cheeks and nose were flushed with a tint of red, and your lashes were clumped together, a remnant of the tears you shed that tired you to sleep.

"i-it's stupid," you mutter, your eyes wandering away from jisung in shame.

jisung bites his tongue, taking a step back to observe you fully and your body language. he tries to put himself in your perspective before he says something. your boyfriend also doesn't want to come on too strong, as you're already going through something. he needs to use his 't' to his advantage while also keeping in mind your 'f, ' which is simultaneously logical but sensitive to your feelings.

"hey, look at me. whatever it is, it's not stupid," his hand travels down slowly, gently cupping your cheek. your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as you meet his gaze. " if you want, you can tell me what's going on, and i'll listen. if you don't want to, then i'll still be here, however you need me to be here right now."

jisung's thumb caresses your cheek gently, paired with a smile as gentle as his touch. you lean into his palm, the word 'hug' leaving your lips with a breathless sigh, to which jisung adjusts both your positions immediately.

the hug becomes a cuddle as you both lie on the couch facing each other, your face buried in jisung's chest, and one arm is squished between you two and the other around his torso. on the other hand, Jisung has an arm under your neck, and the other is holding you close, the smell of your shampoo gracing his senses from how close you are.

your body relaxes but your heart still feels heavy, although it's an improvement compared to a couple hours ago.

jisung's fingers toy with the strands of your hair, occasionally brushing through and trying to gently undo the knots. his mind wandering.

of course, you and jisung aren't attached by the hip and texting all day, every day; there have been times when a couple of hours linger between replies. either you or he would send a message beforehand letting the other know that there would be a delay on your end.

jisung knows you like the back of his hand. he knows your habits and mannerisms. so when you weren't replying or reading his messages after the exchange in the morning, coupled with your demeanour over text and a couple of phone calls, he knew something was wrong.

he knows how you get when you're in the wrong place mentally and emotionally, how you tend to shut yourself in and away from people. saying you want to be alone when you really don't.

before he left the company building, he made sure to check in with chan and the group manager regarding the weekend schedule–wanting to spend as much time as possible with you. sure, this meant he moved some things around, and his sunday would be more packed than usual, but jisung wanted and needed to be there for you.

and you didn't need to know that detail.

when jisung unlocked the front door, he did it as quietly as possible. he looked around the living area and kitchen to see if there were any signs of you, but the kitchen was clean, minus a used glass cup on the counter. he then made his way down the hall and to your bedroom, cracking open the door slowly, trying to avoid it creaking just in case you had been asleep, and you had.

jisung slowly approached the side of the bed, knelt, and observed your sleeping state.

your room was dim, and the only light source was the lamp on your bedside table, thus a yellow hue illuminating your features. jisung felt his heart ache at the sight of you. the air of tranquillity from your sleeping state contrasted with the clear signs of distress that lulled you to sleep. your cheeks were still quite damp with tears, and there were a couple of wet spots on your comforter and pillow.

the sight of you asleep with tear-stained cheeks had jisung wondering what had been going on inside your head the past couple of days, wanting to know the gravity of the storm inside your mind that eventually blew over and resulted in you, isolating yourself, alone and crying yourself to sleep. jisung wanted to get a glimpse into that mind of yours, fight off the thoughts and feelings that brought you to such a low point.

at the same time, the longer he looked at you, jisung wondered if he had done something. he wondered if he had done something lately that caused you to shy away from coming to him, that caused you to resort to crying alone in your room as the easier option. but jisung needed to fight those thoughts to the back of his mind, snapping himself to the realization that this isn't about him but about you and how you feel.

jisung didn't want to wake you up too soon, so he got back up, closed the door behind him softly, and made his way to your kitchen again. he opened and closed the cupboards, fridge, and freezer to identify ingredients he could whip up for you, just in time for you to eat once you awoke.

building up the confidence to speak, your fingers toy with the fabric on the back of jisung's hoodie. you take deep breathes and open your mouth.

"it's the feeling of self-doubt again…" you say softly, almost as if you're in a public place and spilling a secret—quiet but just loud enough for jisung to hear. he hums in acknowledgment, "i just... i don't know."

"how do you need me right now?"

you take a second to think, contemplating what would help you the most now.

"here with me, like this," you move your head up to look at him, "i just need someone to listen."

jisung nods, adjusting his position, but his hold on you never falters; he keeps you close. when he's adjusted, he nods again, this time with a smile and a look of determination.

when jisung felt your body relax in his arms earlier, he wished he could have been there sooner. he wished that you could have sobbed in his arms instead, and he would've held you tight instead of you crying into your pillow and comforter, alone in the dark. what matters to him now is that he's here, and he'll be here however you need him.

"i'm all ears for you, baby."

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

Text

Confessions (Eris X Reader) *

Warnings: Angst, and my first fic with smut. So yeah, a little plot but mostly SMUT. Oral, female receiving, actual sex, and maybe a sweet talking kink.

Eris and the emissary both have hidden feelings, but Eris has never been good at expressing emotions, especially jealousy...

I walk down the hall, trying not to listen to the intensely infuriating male tailing me, bragging loudly about how back in the throne room how he had managed to convince his father to join forces with the Summer Court. My court.

“I’m just saying-” He drawled, staring at me as he kept pace with my increasingly fast footsteps. “Wasn’t it supposed to be your job to convince them? Maybe if I sucked up to Tarquin as much as you do, I could be emissary too-”

I turned towards him, diplomacy be damned- and pinned him against the wall, letting him see the raging power in my eyes. “I don’t know what your problem is today lordling, but I will not tolerate your ridicule.”

He grinned, fire swirling in his eyes as he looked at my arms, caging him against the wall. “How bold of you emissary, and here I thought you were here to please me.”

I snarled, dropping my arms and storming off.

Not looking back to see if he followed me, I went into my room, slamming the door behind me.

I hissed as I ran my hands through my ornately styled hair, ruining hours of hard work.

For the most part, I had grown to like the male. There was more to him than people thought. I had seen with my own eyes that when he had an option between good and bad, he chose to do good.

Sometimes we would flirt a bit too, but never had he spoken to me like that. Not like the way he did with everyone else.

I stormed over to my bed, grabbing one of the fluffy pillows and shoving it to my face, screaming into it.

I hated it. I hated this. Because for the last week, I had been working up the courage to tell him…

Fuck, I still couldn’t even imagine saying it to him, especially right now.

You know how the worst thing they could say is no? Well, Eris is a walking demonstration that isn’t the case.

I had seen him completely destroy people if he found them, or what they did distasteful.

Maybe I thought he was a good male, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be cruel if the mood struck him.

I looked in the long mirror that towered over me. I looked like an absolute mess.

I tore out the circlet I was wearing, along with all the other pretty jewels.

Staring into the mirror, I stared into my own eyes, speaking softly to myself.

“I love you. That’s all you have to say. Three stupid little words.”

Leaning my head against the mirror, I felt pathetic.

I was way too sober for this.

A few drinks later in the privacy of my room, not only was I still not ready, I felt even more pathetic.

Being a little tipsy, I decided to take a walk, hoping to calm my nerves and clear my head.

It wasn’t long before I was walking through the hallways, barely cleaned up enough to be presentable, but no one was out at this hour anyway.

I saw the hall that led to the library, and I paused.

The smell of books and the stories they held always cheered me up. I was sure a good book and a comfy chair could help my hurting heart.

I entered the library only to see the red headed male that smelled of cider, crisp autumn air, and fire that consumed my nights and days.

He looked up, noticing me right as I was turning to leave.

“Y/N, please…”

I paused, my breath caught in my throat as I waited for him to continue.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and I turned around to see his red hair hanging in his eyes as he looked up at me, lips slightly parted and his eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and loneliness.

“Why did you even say all of that in the first place?” I asked, letting the door close as I walked further in, standing next to him.

He looked up at me and swallowed thickly. “I was jealous.”

My breath caught as I stared into the depths of his beautiful red eyes. “Of who? Tarquin?”

His hands fisted and he looked away. “Of Tarquin, of all the males who look at you, of all the males you flirt with. I’m jealous of all of it.”

He laughed, the sound devoid of joy. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Not only do I not tell you how I feel, but I make you suffer for it.”

I don’t even think he realizes what he's confessing.

Moving so I was right in front of him, I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You are not pathetic, you are not bad,” I pushed some of the hair out from in front of his eyes, “You have had a hard life, a life where your family taught you to be cruel. I see the scars you hide that your father inflicts. I know that inside you have the potential to be great.”

His eyes are tearing up, looking up at me as if I was some sort of deity, blessing him.

“I know this, because I love you Eris. I’ve loved you for so very long, and I know that you have a good heart.”

It takes him a moment to realize what I had said, the meaning.

Before he can respond, I lower my lips to his, kissing him softly before pulling back.

He blinked, his whole demeanor changing in milliseconds as he shot up, his hands interlacing in my hair as he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue exploring as I let out a slight whimper.

Drawing back, his breath came out in pants, and I could tell he was barely holding himself back.

Lust clouded my mind, and I barely heard what he said. “What?” I murmured, wishing his lips were back on mine again.

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?” He asks, and I’m suddenly stone cold sober at the vulnerability in his eyes.

I once again bring my hands up to cup his face, stroking his jawline gently. “I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I was just so sure you’d see my flaws and turn me away. I was a coward.” I say the last part, looking away so I don’t have to see the look on his face as he realizes what a huge mistake he’s made.

He gently guides my face so I’m once again looking him in the eyes, and he looks down at me with such love and wonder that I almost crumple right then and there.

“I would never turn away from you my darling. Never you.” He leaned down, placing his mouth on my neck, speaking in between kisses, “You are an angel.” I struggled not to let out a moan as the scent of his arousal hit me, his hands massaging my hips gently. “Ever since I first saw you, that first snarky remark, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He drew back, looking down at me lovingly. “You are too good for me, but now that I know that you like me back, I will fight like hell to make sure I can keep seeing that sassy little smirk you love to send my way.”

“I love you.” I said, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “And I never want to be apart from you again.”

He growled, and I squeezed my thighs together, trying to keep my wits about me as I started to drown in this male.

Hoisting me up, he turned us, placing me on the large comfy chair he had just been lounging in.

“Do you want this?” He asked, his thumbs gently grazing my hardened nipples as his voice dropped an octave, staring at my already abused lips.

I nodded, and he stopped breathing for a moment, pinching one of my nipples while whispering into my ear, “Use your words.”

“Please Eris-” I begged, whimpering as I tried to pull him closer.

He grinned, his eyes predatory as he dropped to his knees. “Don’t worry angel, I’m going to take good care of you.”

Slowly, he felt every inch of my thighs, going to reach for my panties and hissing when he found me already bare.

“Oh naughty girl. Were you hoping this would happen?” He asked, chuckling as he pushed my dress up, placing my legs over his shoulders.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I only moaned as he dove in, his tongue flicking my clit and licking alternately.

I lost all sense of time as I was oh so slowly brought closer to the edge, that coil in my stomach tightening as I realized I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

“Eris, I’m so close-” I said through whimpers, moaning as he once again flicked my clit.

I could feel him grin into my most private parts as he pushed two fingers into my slickness, curling his fingers and making my hips buck involuntarily. “Eris, please!” I whined, rolling my hips in an attempt get him to start moving again, and he laughed darkly.

“I’ve been waiting to taste you forever angel. When you come on my tongue, I want to be the only thing you’re thinking about.” He said, his voice so seductive I almost came right there.

“You’re the only thing on my mind all the time,” I said, letting out little noises of pleasure as he pumped his fingers, once, twice.

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

He dove back in, tongue and fingers working in tandem, pushing me over the edge of bliss, calling out his name as my body shook from the pleasure he drew from me.

He kept going, drawing out my pleasure as long as possible.

I was a puddle as he drew his fingers out, sucking my juices off of them before leaning down to kiss me again.

I could feel his hardness pressing through his pants, and I pushed into it with the palm of my hand, eliciting a hiss from him.

“My naughty angel. Do you want my dick inside you?” He asked breathlessly, nuzzling my neck before dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, and he groaned in time with my moan.

“I need you Eris. I need you in me now.” I pleaded, working at the buttons of his pants.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, suddenly gentle. “Let me.”

Undoing the rest of the buttons, his member sprung free and my mouth watered from how big he was.

He picked me up, spinning us around so he was sitting and I was held aloft above him.

I waited for him to push in, but as I looked at his face, I realized he was giving me complete control.

Smiling softly, I lowered myself slowly, both of us moaning as I made it all the way down.

He helped me move up and down slowly as he spoke. “I’ve never felt like this for someone before. You scare the hell out of me because I’m falling, and I knew that if you told me you felt the same way, you would completely own me.”

I gasped as he started to rub my clit, unable to form words eloquently, I said, my voice guttural, “You’re mine.”

Our pace sped up and he growled, playing with my clit more roughly as his other hand went to my breast, massaging it as he took the nipple of my other breast into his mouth, making me moan in an obscene way.

He let go with his mouth, my brain frying as I once again reached the edge of bliss.

“And you’re mine.” he growled, thrusting hard and hitting that spot, and I let out a scream of ecstasy as he reached it with me, and he pushed his lips to mine, silencing me as we rode out the rest of our orgasms.

When we were done, he gently pulled me off, and I moaned.

“I love you, Angel.” He said, nuzzling my neck and pulling me into a hug.

I sighed in joy, my heart fluttering out of my chest. “And I love you Lordling.”

108 notes · View notes

nr1chaedickrider · 1 month

Text

It's all in my head, who do I trust? - I thought that you loved me, what is happening to us?

anyway, don't be a stranger.

2 new messages,

[user: momo]

'Hey'

...

'Happy birthday,

I did not forget.'

...

'meet me at han river in 10?'

...

'okay.'

The cold night air hits Jihyo's face, giving her goosebumps.

It's completly empty except for some couples sitting on the grass.

It makes her wish that she would be one of them.

She puts her hands inside of the pockets of her jacket.

She reaches a familiar bench.

It makes her think, about the old times.

About her first kiss.

About the confession of love in the rain - like a romantic movie that would have the watchers sobbing in their seats.

It got her sobbing too, in the depth of the night.

When she feels lonely, and vunerable.

A side of her that she doesn't want anyone to see.

She sits down on the bench, staring at the water.

She tries to lean back, tries to relax.

How is she able to relax if exactly she was the first person to congratulate her on her birthday?

"Jihyo" says Momo in a soft voice.

How is she supposed to relax when she says her name like that?

She looks up, from the water, and looks Momo in the eyes before she joins her on the bench.

They both stare at the water, without saying anything.

Even though people would describe Jihyo as someone that always has something to say, as someone that can't stay silent for too long, she has no idea what to say in this moment.

But that is nothing new to Jihyo, or to Momo, moments like these, in silence, are nothing new to them.

Jihyo decides to break the silence though.

"I only allow myself to miss you at night, I miss you in the secret -

because thats how it should be." she says, it comes out as a whisper.

It's an impulsive thought.

Momo looks at her, nods a little, then looks back at the river.

"Do you still think of me sometimes?" Jihyo asks.

She wishes she didn't ask that question after thinking about it long enough.

She wishes she didn't answer Momo's stupid texts.

She knows what her answer is going to be, something like a "no, I dont, not really."

But she is actually surprised when Momo answers.

"I do.

A lot actually"

This time Jihyo looks at Momo, without saying anything.

It feels like they are having an pointless conversation, with no goal or no end.

"Sometimes I want to text you -

but then I remember" Momo says.

Jihyo thinks she even heard a little sob when Momo said it.

But she doesn't want to think about it too much.

It's silent again, both watching people slowly leave the river.

The couples leave together, hand in hand.

Jihyo gets emotional seeing it.

"Atleast we are under the same sky" Jihyo says.

She feels the tears coming, but tries to hold them back.

"Maybe in another universe" Momo says, or rather, whispers.

And Jihyo is definetly sure that she heard a sob.

"I'm starting to forget you, I'm starting to forget us -

and it scares me." Jihyo says.

It's pointless.

This conversation.

They are both pathetically crying, like little, spoiled children that got their candy taken away.

They try to focus on the han river infront of them, they try to ignore the fact that this,

somehow is a goodbye.

"Can we have one more meaningless conversation?" Jihyo asks, even thought she already knows the answer to her stupid question.

"It's too late" Momo answers.

And she is right, she is so fucking right.

But Jihyo doesn't want it to be true.

Jihyo just wishes they could go back to talking once in a while because one of them is feeling alone in the middle of the night.

It doesn't need to be constant texting.

Just every now and then.

"I don't want to forget your voice"

She is trying to drag this out, to stop Momo from leaving.

"Or anything about you." Jihyo says, looking down onto her lap.

She watches her tears dropping onto her black jeans.

"I will look at the stars every night -

and I will think of you" Momo answers.

"My birthday wish for you is to let go" Momo says as she stands up.

Jihyo doesn't stop her when she starts walking.

She knows she can't stop her.

She knows she couldn't.

So instead of running after her, or leaving to walk to her apartment, she just watches Momo leave.

Her figure disappears in the darkness of the night.

"Anyway,

don't be a stranger." she whispers.

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hyperfixated-gvf · 1 year

Text

Plastic Jesus

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F. Reader | Rated Explicit | Words: 3k

Warnings: Language, fingering, religious themes (humorous), mentions of car sex in many forms

Summary: "And I'm in the backseat sinnin', Jesus is up there grinnin', sitting on the dashboard of my car."

Author's Note: Please, for the love of god, never, ever do sexual things while you drive. I am not advocating for this!

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“You are a wily one, Danny Wagner,” you sighed, fingers sinking into the thick depths of your boyfriend’s curls regardless of your previous protests just a few seconds earlier.

Danny smiled against your neck, sloppily dragging kisses across your skin as his own hands trailed dangerously up your shirt. “And you’re quite easy to persuade.”

He was right– it only took him pulling you into the backseat of the car in the empty corner of the parking lot after an excursion to a waterfall nearby for you to fall to his whims, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t had a few words to say about it at first.

“Danny, we told your parents we’d be home in time for dinner.”

“Danny, what if someone sees us and we get charged with indecent exposure?”

“Danny, we won’t both fit in the back seat.”

There had been another reason somewhere, but it had faded into the back of your mind before you’d had time to speak it into existence. Despite all you had to say, you’d gone willingly when he spread his stupid thighs and waggled his stupid eyebrows at you like a dork. It was a particular brand of real estate that was very hard for you to resist even on your best days, and since you’d been staying at his mom and dad’s house for a visit over the small hiatus the band had, there had been far less fooling around going on than what you were used to when you were on home soil in Danny’s house or your condo.

Danny’s lap had a hold on you that was almost embarrassing, and the man could do wonders with you in it, so you cut yourself some slack – you wanted him to make you cum, dammit, and sometimes that meant being late to family dinner.

And so, your words fell into a different warning once he’d gotten his lips on you and his erection pressing just right into the fabric of your joggers. “We have to be quick, Danny,” you urged, flexing your thighs and grinding down on him.

His fingers finally wiggled underneath the band of your sports bra, tracing the curve of your breast until he found your nipples with his nimble fingertips, tweaking and rolling at them until you squirmed in his lap unintentionally. “Danny this, Danny that— I like it better when my name is in your mouth for a reason other than nagging at me, woman.” Your grip tightened at his scalp, and Danny’s lips pinched together at the tug, followed by his knees when you lifted up and planted yourself down, hard. “Careful!” he yelped, one hand disengaging from your chest to protect himself.

“You be careful,” you murmured, sharply tilting his head and kissing all the sense from his brain, encouraging him to forget about your empty threat.

He moaned into your mouth and then got both of his hands down to your hips, twisting them gently and pressing you to turn in his lap to face the dense wall of trees that colored in the wondshield so that he could fit his hand down the front of your pants.

“Mmm,” Danny hummed, fingers slicking through your folds, “have you been thinking about this as much as I have?” One long middle finger slowly pressed into you, and you gasped, pressing your back into him so that he could keep loving gently on your throat. “‘Cause it fucking feels like you have.”

His voice was low and gritty, and god, it made you want him even more. Even with his finger slowly working inside of you, you wanted all of him. “I have,” you admitted, “but what I was fantasizing about requires a few less clothes.”

Danny squeezed your hip with the hand that wasn’t pressed against your cunt and feeling you up, almost an answer in itself. “Hang on, just let me touch you for a bit, babe,” he implored, his thumb tracing the outside of your lips as he extracted that middle finger and spread what wetness he was coaxing out across every inch of you, “I miss the way you feel on my fingers.”

You disregarded the fact that he’d fingered you to completion the second night of your stay and turned your head to kiss what you could, which happened to be his hair. You didn’t mind – you loved every part of Danny, and would kiss every inch that you could. Giving into him, you relaxed, closed your eyes, and just let him touch you, gently running the calloused pads of his fingers up and down, circling your clit often because he knew that’s where it counted. It was a slow build up, and if his fingers came out pruny, then that was on him but there would be no complaint from you.

“I can’t wait to get back to your house,” you murmured, clenching at the flutter of his fingers around a sensitive spot. Danny felt you contract and did it again, your nerves so responsive to his touch. “And we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

Danny groaned, lips brushing your skin as he shifted his hips up for relief. “Me too, baby. I can’t stand not being able to hear you.”

You were both rather auditory lovers, obsessed with the way the the other sounded when you fucked. And god, Danny’s noises were heavenly – he wasn’t a talker, but he was always right by your ear, huffing and panting, and in that position, you could hear every low grunt, every hitch of his breath, every high-pitched, swallowed-down moan that your body pulled from him.

At the thought of it, you began grinding yourself into Danny’s fingers, a faster rhythm with more pressure that Danny braced his wrist for to let you ride his hand. “‘Atta girl,” he cooed, brushing his thumb over your bundle of nerves and lighting you up, “Goddamn, you are so sexy like this – riding my fingers…mmm.”

He continued to huff against your skin as the wet, sloppy sounds coming from where he had two of his fingers sunk into you increased. You did as he said, moving your hips as if you were riding his dick and slowly peeling your eyes back open to get you bearings and clutch the seats in front of you with a better grip.

Only to find a pair of eyes staring into your soul.

Your hips stopped abruptly and your whole body tensed to the point that Danny quickly withdrew his fingers and straightened up, looking out all the windows to see if anyone was there and tightly asking you, “What? What is it?” He knew your body well enough to know that you weren’t tensing up for the good reason – something was wrong. “Y/N, what the hell happened?”

He was aptly confused: there was no one peering into the windows or approaching the car, no weird sounds, not even his dad’s name ringing on his phone to ask where the two of you were.

“We’re being watched, and judged. Hard.”

Again, Danny looked around and shook his head, finally peering around you to follow your gaze to the front of the car, and began to laugh raucously.

You could help but to let your lips quirk up as his laughs turned to wheezes that you could feel in the small of your back from where it was pressed against his belly. Perhaps Danny found it funny, but the stuck-on figurine of Catholic Jesus blessing the car from the center of the dashboard certainly did not. It pierced you with eerily life-like eyes that shouldn’t have been so detailed on a plastic car accessory, staring straight ahead so that you couldn’t escape its gaze.

“Jesus is always watching, though,” Danny joked, hands slipping to your front again but not pushing past when you flattened them against you with your own to keep him from reaching his goal.

Perhaps you weren’t a member of the church anymore but, still, it felt…blasphemous to let Danny keep fingering you with the intention of eventually fucking you right in front of this little plastic Jesus. You were no stranger to your own sins, committed willingly and often, and you rarely felt the need to show penance or to deprive yourself of life’s pleasures but, apparently, a plastic dashboard Jesus was enough to do it.

Plus, that little plastic Jesus sparked a reminder of that last big reason that you should not be fooling around in the car.

You groaned, flopping back against Danny as he let out a small ‘umpf,’ still gladly taking your weight. “Well…I guess we’ll be back in time for dinner after all–” you started, intending to go on but interrupted by Danny’s disgruntled noise against your back.

Danny hugged you tighter, and you knew the protest was coming before the words even left his mouth, evident in the way he was still hard underneath you. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re gonna let Jesus cockblock us?” In a sentence that you never thought you’d have ever heard uttered, much less to your own situation, you giggled, affirming his fears before you attempted – and failed – to scoot off Danny’s lap, the muscles in his arms locking you in tightly.

“I wanna touch you,” he whined, not actually making any moves to put his hands anywhere except wrapped around your midsection like a seatbelt. You knew he would let you go if you wanted him to, but he was like a bloodhound – he knew when you wanted him, every time. You could be across the room at a crowded convention where he was having a conversation with John Rahm and Roger Taylor at the same time and he would look over at you with that crooked smile of his the moment you began thinking filthy things about him.

“Danny, we shouldn’t be doing this right now, we have commitments,” you murmured, biting your lip as he pushed his erection into your ass and snuffled at your throat, a spot right under your ear that really tickled your fancy. “And we definitely shouldn’t be doing it in the car.”

Danny’s low hum was not one of agreement. “But we’ve fooled around in the car plenty of times before. You don’t remember that time you rode me in the driver’s seat because we couldn’t make it in?” he asked, grinding up against you with a bit more pressure now. “Or that time I ate you out against the hood because you wore that tiny little number to the farmer’s market?”

“That was a sundress, Daniel.”

He laughed at your interjection, but finished out his string of supporting evidence that you’d never had much of a problem with defiling vehicles in the past. “What about when you sucked me off from across the center console at that–”

“I remember,” you interrupted again, blushing at each depraved memory he brought up. God, you guys really weren’t all that great at waiting until you were in the bedroom; however, you also had a sneaking suspicion that Danny had a bit of a kink for car sex. “But that doesn’t take away from the fact that we shouldn’t be fooling around in this car because it’s–”

“Got a plastic Jesus sitting on the dashboard?”

“No–”

“If that’s what's stopping me from getting my fingers back into that tight, warm–” Your elbow gently met his gut, and he giggled, quite smug with his ability to rile you up. “Here, we can just do this instead.”

He tried to move you up, effectively bending you over the center console crudely and reached out to the little figurine. You weren’t sure if he was going to rip the adhesive off or see if it would turn without breaking, but before he could touch it, you gasped and grabbed at his elbow. “No! Don’t touch it with that hand, Daniel, that was the one you were fingering me with!”

“Oh, so it’s okay to talk about fingering, I just can’t do it?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not talking about– damn you, Danny! We weren’t talking about fingering until you started to.”

He snorted, keeping you in your compromising position since you were here already. If the clothes had been gone, he’d have already been inside of you. “Oh, well, forgive me for trying to clarify, you’re confusing me with all your rules and I’m not sure what’s morally right enough for you and plastic Jesus.” Even joking, the rough tone his voice in your ear was like sex - intoxicating and just for you.

Your lust threatened to take over your better judgment as the position you were in rubbed you right up against his length. It was just the faintest whisper of contact and muted by several layers of clothes, but it was enough to fill your head with a burning desire to feel him sink into you. To feel the thick stretch as he filled you up and gave you something to clench around as you came.

Dammit. You really needed to get out of here and into a place where you wouldn’t feel guilty for fucking Danny into next week.

“It’s not just Jesus keeping me from using you until you’re all dried up and begging me to stop, Danny,” you huffed, wistfully wishing for what was within your immoral reach. “It’s the fact that this is your mom’s car.”

The engine light in Danny’s car had blinked on practically the moment you’d turned into his parents’ driveway coming from the store a couple of days into your stay, and they’d insisted that you take Lori’s to hike up to a small waterfall nearby while they took Danny’s car back into town to the shop before dinner. You were pretty sure that making out and all these other salacious acts hadn’t been part of that deal.

Danny didn’t seem phased, though, which was surprising as he’d been just as hesitant to do anything more than some very quiet heavy petting one night, too afraid that you’d gag on his cock and his parents would hear you retch from down the hall to even allow a blowjob.

“Babe, whose car do you think I was driving when I finally got my license?” he chuckled. “I sure as hell didn’t have my own yet and you bet your ass that I took the first opportunity I got to bring the girl I was with at the time on the backroads.” He finally sat back and turned you around so that you were once again face to face. He was so pretty. So handsome, and you felt so lucky until he opened his mouth again. “I’m only a good driver because I’ve had a lot of practice driving distracted, if you know what I mean,” he said with a grin and a wink, eyebrows waggling.

Of course he did. Danny had regaled you with stories from his high school days – about how he was less of an angel than people made him out to be, and now that his proclivity for car sex hadn’t just magically developed with you. You shook your head and laughed, leaning in to kiss the man. “Daniel Wagner, I love you, but how you haven’t crashed your car and burned, I will never know.”

“Trust me, I don’t know either.” He was a bit older, a bit more mature with a healthy dose of experience regarding the consequences of his actions, and while you knew he was a grown adult with the ability to make his own sound decisions, you were also certain that if you offered anything, from road head to a handjob to a solo-show on the way home, he wouldn’t turn you down.

After reveling in the nearness for a moment longer, you sighed and sat up; this time, Danny let you go. “That doesn’t change the fact that I refuse to disrespect Lori that way. Come on, let’s go meet your parents for dinner, and then we’ll be extra, extra quiet tonight and you can fuck me on your childhood bed,” you promised. That was a fantasy for some, right? It had to count for something.

Your words caused Danny to drop his chin to his chest and faux-sob, giving you his best to charm you back into his lap by being goofy. When you only laughed at his dramatics, he lifted his head to fix a menacing gaze at the plastic Jesus, still smiling gently from his place on the dashboard. “This is your fault,” Danny accused, pointing his finger at the little trinket.

“Stop glaring at Jesus, it was not his fault.”

Danny turned to you belligerently. “It totally was! He, like…reignited your moral compass. I like my dirty girl,” he pouted, finally flinging the door open and meeting you in the front seats once more, even closer to the object of his resentment now.

But it honestly, truly wasn’t Jesus’s fault that you regained a clear head. You tried another angle, instead of seemingly defending plastic Jesus and his ability to convert you into a nun with an honor belt. “It’s your mom’s car, Dan; how would you feel is Josie took your car out for a spin with her beau and ended up fuc–”

“Ew,” Danny cringed, waving his hands at you to stop before he put the car in motion. “Ew, ew, no. I get it. Let’s just…go and not use that analogy ever again, please.” He let out a few more discontented murmurs under his breath. “Get this stupid dinner over with…hate driving with an erection…”

You giggled at his unfortunate situation, eying the consistent bulge that didn’t seem to want to go down, even after the analogy. “I mean, if it helps,” you said mischievously, and Danny’s gaze snapped over to you, hoping for a dirty resolution after all. Unable to help yourself, you loosened your seatbelt and leaned closer, until your hands were planted on the center console and your lips were by Danny’s ear. “It smells like your mom in here.”

He viscerally reacted, pulling away with a sour face. “What the fuck, Y/N!” If there was a surefire way to make sex less sexy, it was to bring your parents into the equation.

“Unless you want to think about your mom or…have me think about your mom while we–”

“Absolutely not.”

“I mean, you have a lot of her features…”

“Oh god, please stop talking. The erection is a non-issue now, I promise.”

~~~

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voylitscope · 8 months

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Stucky Recs: Back To School

It's September, and that felt like the very most appropriate time for a back-to-school-themed rec post.

So: A rec post of 11, very seasonally appropriate, high school/college Stucky AUs.

Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.

🎓 The Daily Rogers | Nonymos | Explicit | 32,154 words | College

We have a (surprisingly?) large number of fics in this fandom that use tumblr as a decently central plot point. Of all of them, I feel like this one is probably the most well-known. (Unless it's this one?) This fic, featuring a defenses-way-up skinny Steve and a very sweet, but also very assertive, Bucky, is super memorable, and so incredibly well done. It's somewhat of a meet-ugly, or, honestly, a first-several-encounters-ugly, and I love the way their relationship develops from there over the course of the story. I also love what that relationship turns into once they're together. Plus, the place this story gets them— both as individuals and in their relationship — before it ends is a satisfying and beautifully done one.

Quote:

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled, handing him the phone back. “She, uh, she’s the one who drove me to the hospital when Rumlow broke my arm that first time. She’s a bit protective now.” Bucky stared at him. Steve—and when had Bucky started to think of him as Steve?—looked fucking adorable in Bucky’s hoodie, with his stupid glasses and his pink lips. He’d also left Bucky’s bed completely covered in blood and dirt after attempting to fight a guy twice his size. Who’d broken his arm before and threatened to do it again. “I think I understand a bit better why they made a whole Tumblr about you,” Bucky said. Steve bristled all over again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky looked heavenwards. “Somethin’ nice, Rogers.” Steve looked—well, he looked puzzled. Like he didn’t know what to do with that.

Look, sometimes, you want to read angst. Intense emotions. Canon. Canon divergence. Sometimes, you want to cry about these boys. But then there are times that your heart needs to read about them just being all happy and painfully cute about each other — just being wide-eyed teenagers with wide-eyed feelings about each other. My heart does, anyway. This fic is perfect for that. So sweet, so lovely. A fic that left me smiling and thinking about the two of them on a blanket under the stars.

Quote:

Steve thinks he’s going to die. He wants nothing more than to say yes. To the holding down, that is. But he cannot find his voice at all. He looks up into Bucky’s eyes. It’s dark, but the moon and the stars in the sky already provide enough light to see those eyes sparkle. They’re so close now, almost breathing the same air. Forget stars, forget meteor showers. Steve wants to drown in those grey blue eyes, and he’s barely holding his head above water as it is, judging from how hard it feels to breathe.

All of the rom-com AUs forever for these two, please. This is such an engrossing and immersive fic. That's something I really enjoy about college AUs, and that works so well in this particular fic —the way that, because actual college campuses are often their own little world, the world's of college AUs can be these really tight little realities with their own specific sort of pacing and consequences. I love that, and I love it in this fic — it's so beautifully done, and it's such a great read, too, I think, because the original rom-com is both high school set and limited to being movie length/tied to Hollywood standards. There is so much more depth and additional story here, while still having that really fun element of being an AU loosely based on a film. So enjoyable, and such a satisfying read.

Quote:

“You do this often?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet to preserve the stillness around them. “Lay on the ground and play dead?” “Yeah,” Steve quirks a smile. “It was the second trick I learned after fetch.” Despite himself, that makes Bucky grin. “You always have an answer for everything huh?” he says. That makes Steve sigh a little, his shoulders droop enough that it’s only then that they both notice they had been hunched close to his ears. “Yeah,” he says. “Character flaw.” “One man’s character flaw is another man’s personality trait,” Bucky says. He stretches his legs out in front of him, props himself up on his palms behind him. “Pretty sure a personality trait can also be a character flaw, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Steve says with a half-smile.

I sometimes debate whether I should go with including fics on these rec posts that fall heavy on the porn side of a porn-to-plot ratio, solely because, at a certain point, smut-heavy fics feel like their own thing that should go in their own post. But! That said, this fic, although it does fall pretty heavy on the porn side of the porn-to-plot-ratio is very, very solidly a college fic. It also does have a really fun plot, and I really, so much, enjoy that it features a Steve POV that is an absolute, just total and complete disaster about Bucky. Also! This fic has vibes and aesthetics that I quite appreciate.

Quote:

Steve grins like an absolute buffoon when he sees him, frozen in place like he's rooted there. Bucky glances around, gaze settling on Steve. The expression that spreads across his face in response to the realization that Steve is in fact there waiting for him is incandescent; Bucky actually brightens like maybe he wasn't expecting Steve to show. He draws his shoulders up and walks to Steve. When he reaches him, Bucky reaches out and grabs him by the front of his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss. Steve goes with a muffled squeak, ducking down to meet the firm press of lips. For a second, Steve doesn't know what to do with his hands, hovering just above Bucky's hips as he grasps tightly at Steve's shirt. Just as Steve's knees go weak and fireworks start to go off behind his eyes, Bucky pulls away, blinking at him with big, sultry eyes. "Hey, pal. You're very punctual. You ready?"

So, here's a thing about me: I really like it when fics emphasize that Steve and Bucky are meant for each other. That's it always them, In all universes. It's a thing I'm big into for these two. And this is why I enjoy so much when a fic pulls off the thing where there is some sort of doubled get-together or double feelings build. Like, ID porn fics can do this sometimes — falling for each other two different ways at once — as can fics like this one — a fic about Steve and Bucky both ignoring Nat's insistence that she knows the perfect guy for them and instead going out to a bar and meeting a total stranger. A total stranger they fall for basically on sight. A total stranger who, as it turns out, is that exact guy Nat meant the whole time. — Yeah. That's a premise I really enjoy. This is a fic I really, really enjoy. A total delight.

Quote:

“Now I’ve got some ridiculously low resting heart rate,” Steve said, tipping his head sideways towards his wrist. Taking the hint, Bucky pressed his fingers to the pulse point below the base of Steve’s thumb. Maybe he did have a low resting heart rate, but if he did, Steve was not currently at rest. It made Bucky feel a little better, knowing that for some reason – Bucky? – Steve’s heart was racing. “Do you want to, um,” Steve started. When he paused, unsure, he touched his tongue to his bottom lip before chewing on it and something in Bucky’s body short-circuited. He just hoped it wasn’t the actual mechanical hardware attached to his left side, because that would be ill-timed. “Go home with you?” he suggested quietly. “Yeah,” Steve said. “That.”

🎓What a Wonderful World This Would Be | Mambo | Teen | 28,723 words | College

You know how sometimes you read a fic and you find yourself literally making embarrassing sorts of noises out loud about it? And also feel yourself making ridiculous faces at your screen in response to it? Right, that was me reading this fic. Featuring an art major Steve who is completely convinced Fraternity Bucky is going to be some total jerk of a guy when they're paired as project partners — until they have all of one conversation and Bucky is ... you know, sweet, friendly, smart, charming, and generally Bucky-like. So then Steve spends thousands and thousands of words falling hard for Bucky while also being super confused by why Bucky wants to keep spending time with him — and incredibly doubtful that Bucky actually does want to be spending time with him. Even though Bucky spends thousands and thousands of words being the Very Most Obvious that he's super into Steve. It's so ridiculously and delightfully cute. I love it a lot. Also! This fic is actually the start of an entire college AU 'verse. I've only read this first fic, but the rest of the 'verse is on my TBR and is likely equally delightful.

Quote:

Steve’s brow furrows. “How do you know I do?” Bucky moves his laptop off his lap, sets it on the floor. He stretches his arms up over his head, exposing the stretch of tan skin where his shirt rides up over his jeans. And Steve is definitely not looking for purely artistic and aesthetic reasons, but manages to drag his eyes away before Bucky notices. “You always annotate your books. I can see all those post-its from where I sit, even. You don’t talk much but you’re always leafing through your book because you know which exact quote will prove somebody wrong. Don’t try to argue; I totally notice.” That’s not untrue. “No fair,” Steve says. “You sit behind me. I can’t stare at you creepily at all.” “Not starin’, just appreciatin’ the view.” Steve must look confused because Bucky laughs again. “You’re kinda cute,” he says. “‘Specially when you blush.”

The author tagged this "enemies to friends to lovers" and "the softest of enemy-ships though," which, honestly, is absolutely perfect tagging for this incredibly sweet fic. It is soft. Everything that happens in this fic is very, very soft. Steve and Bucky are assigned to be lab partners! They spend all semester in this terribly and wonderfully cute slow burn! There's tutoring! There are coffee dates shop hangouts! There is cake! There is a Very Meaningful hug! It's all very, very charming and super adorable. Plus, this is a fic that works with one of my personal favorite tropes: someone slowly realizing that they were wrong about another person and falling for that person — hard — as they do. I'm always weak for that, and I love this fic's delightful — and, yes, very soft — take on it.

Quote:

His notebook was full of eraser marks, his lines uneven and confusing, running into each other when he made his structures too small for the amount of bonds between molecules. He could always see them in his mind, but drawing them out was hell for him, his hands just a little shaky. Steve didn’t seem to have that problem because Steve’s notebook…that shit was just about the prettiest art Bucky had ever seen. He couldn’t help himself from reaching out his fingers and running over the neat, perfect hexagons with their lines and perfect little letters for the attached elements. They looked straight out of a printed textbook. Steve didn’t move, the solid mass of him almost against Bucky’s side. “How long do these take you?” he asked. “Oh, I’m quick,” Steve supplied cheerfully. To prove his point, he drew a quick acetyl salicylic acid, copying its structure from the sloppy one on the board, where the lab’s flowchart was. Bucky was mesmerized, his form perfect and confident and tiny, so at odds with how huge Steve’s hands were. “See?” “Okay, well,” Bucky let out a laugh, “You can definitely write the lab report.”

A fic I spent a weekend totally engrossed and lost in on first read and that, ever since, has always been sitting somewhere in my brain. I think something that really, really appeals to me about sports AUs is when they're used as a lens to translate some things Steve genuinely struggles with in canon — the ways he handles guilt, the ways he feels responsible for things and people, his loneliness, etc — into these incredibly real-feeling modern, actual world, contexts. This fic does that so unbelievably well. Steve isn't truly okay, at all, during most of this fic, and affects everything. I love that so much. I also love this fic's worldbuilding, with a childhood Steve and Bucky backstory, a college swim team friend group, the pressures of professional athlete life, Olympic sponsorships, world records, and in-verse media like fake tweets and news articles. (This fic is the first fic in an in-progress 'verse, all of which I would also recommend.)

Quote:

“I didn’t want to come,” Steve says, trying to be honest, “but I’m glad I did. It feels nice to clear the air. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while actually.” Steve thinks maybe this has been the happiest he’s been in a long time. He doesn’t want to tell Bucky that or speak it out loud, but the knowledge that this is happiness, and that he truly feels lightness in his bones, thrills him and he wants to keep that feeling close to him as long as he can. “I’m glad you’re here now. Just you.” Bucky says. Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that so he takes another swig of the champagne. There’s bubbles in his stomach but he’s not sure if it’s from the champagne or Bucky’s words. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” Bucky says. It takes Steve a second to understand what he’s referring to.

🎓Targeting | queenmab_scherzo | Explicit | 149,148 words | High school & College

I do not know if I will ever be over the way this fic manages to mirror canon so closely while being about high school and then college football. I feel as if that shouldn't work. And yet it does, and I love it. I also love the way, because this fic so closely mirrors canon, we get a lot of Steve refusing, just absolutely refusing to give up on Bucky. Or doubt Bucky. Or listen to anyone's objections or concerns about Bucky. There is a lot of Steve being determined to get real answers to things, and Steve being determined to make things right, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky take the blame/punishment for things, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky go. So you know, very much like canon. Except it's about football? It's so, so good.

Quote:

Bucky doesn't attack. He backs away instead, an immediate, heartbreaking reflex, crystallizing proof that Steve isn't dealing with a predator. It's inhuman, the raw metal of his eyes and his expression, his hollow features, the way he blinks slowly and deliberately. He just won a football game, for crying out loud, not just any football game, the Game of the Century, he beat the number two team in the country and he can't even crack a smile. There is James Barnes, but where is Bucky. Bucky used to smile through broken bones and blood in his teeth, where is that Bucky. Come back, what happened, come back to me. Heart thudding, Steve surges forward, thinking about 49-yard field goals. "At least take my phone number." For a long time, he doesn't think Bucky will respond, and when he does, it's on an exhale, an inaudible brushstroke on dry canvas: "Fine." "You—do you want to write it down or something?" "I'll remember." The noise of the crowd rises and falls.

I realized when I was pulling this list together that I actually probably should have included this fic back in June as part of my Pride recs post I didn't, obviously, and I'm a little annoyed at myself about it. But, that allows me to rec it now, and this is absolutely a college fic. So I guess that works out. Anyway, like I said when I talked about Lane Lines, I love when a sports AU also works as a lens to look at some of Steve's less-than-healthy ways of dealing with things. This fic, which is about college hockey, is another great example of that. There are a lot of things in this fic — many of them, but not all of them, related to Bucky — that Steve has told himself he Absolutely Cannot Do, and his journey of letting go of some of that over the course of this story is one I enjoyed so, so much. Like I said, I could've rec'd this one in June, so there's a lot centered on sexuality happening here. There are a lot of feelings and a lot of romance. Also, one of my spreadsheet notes in the tropes column for this one says, "GRAND GESTURES." So.

Quote:

Bucky doesn’t know what to do with those smiles. He doesn’t know where to keep them (because he so desperately wants to keep them) that they won't cloud him. That they won’t press into his stupid crush and spill it over into something more dangerous. The team dynamic is flowing, winding, warming into something so comfortable, it bleeds into their game, and it’s like they can’t lose. They win their next two home games, Bucky chasing down Steve’s scoring record and loving every second of it. The way Steve isn’t even mad about it. The way Steve nods at him in the locker room at the end of the games. Claps him on the shoulder now with the rest of the team… All of it leaves Bucky so wholly unprepared.

🎓Persued by a bear | Zenaidamacrouras1 @zenaidamacrouras1 | Explicit | 19,200 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

So, they're slightly older in this fic than any other fic on this list. (Well, actually, maybe not? They're a bit older in Natasha Romonaoff's Dating Service, too.) Steve is a professor and Bucky is a PhD candidate. This is also the very most academic of all fics on this list, and it's a complete and total delight from start to finish. It's a Shakespeare conference! There are tweed jackets, and suspenders, and pickup lines using Shakespeare, and the cutest Steve POV voice. I'm always, always a huge fan of a fic that features what could have been, should have been, a one-night stand, but that turns into so much more — with some hiccups, but also a lot of shameless flirtation, along the way. This fic delivers that so incredibly well and is just such a fun read.

Quote:

“You’re good at what you do, too, James,” Steve says softly, looking up at Bucky through his lashes, and shit, he didn’t mean for this to get all sexy all of a sudden. Bucky’s just. Really sexy. “You should call me Bucky. If you want," Bucky says softly. "I think I do, Bucky," Steve says because. He does. And Bucky's at a completely different university, and he's obviously a full-on, real-deal grown-up. Maybe this is okay. "Watching you work and listening to you think after following your scholarly writing for so long was incredibly hot,” Bucky says in a rush. “I’m sure you get that all the time. God, now I sound like a groupie.” Steve suppresses a smile. “Believe it or not, I don’t really have groupies."

There are a few additional fics that could be classed college/university fics and that absolutely are on my rec spreadsheet/in my bookmarks, but that I didn't include here. These are almost all fics with a plot about driving home (from campus) for the holidays/car sharing/motel room sharing/etc. that I feel like are holiday fics more than college fics, and holiday fics will almost definitely be their own post. (I didn't realize I had more than one fic like that bookmarked. But apparently, I do.)

I do have an apocalypse/dystopias/etc rec post sitting in my drafts I'm stressing myself out about it. Probably unnecessarily. I swear it's coming soon. Maybe I'll also do something seasonal in October? I haven't thought about that yet, but it's completely possible.

Fic Rec Series

#SteveBucky #Stucky fic #Stucky Fic Recs #fic recs #fic rec series #Me rambling about other people's writing

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dreamsgazer · 1 year

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Actions of Affections

I’ll be frank with you people, I do not know how I feel about this oneshot. It popped into my mind while I was working on Scouting Around - Part 2, and I had to get it out of my system.

Anyway, I’ll leave it here, let me know what do you think (also, sorry for the typos, this is not beta read).

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Warnings: very light swearing, no use of Y/N.

Tangerine is not always good with words, when it comes to feelings.

He prefers actions.

Growing up in foster care meant a severe lack of hugs, goodnight kisses, or any form of parental affection he had wished so desperately for, at least at the beginning of his life.

He grew up not knowing exactly how to express his emotions with words, and when he does now as an adult, he’s rough and honest to the point of brutality. He still has troubles, for sure. Sometimes he wonders if it weren’t for Lemon, would he be able to express anything at all?

Of course, he has found his way to cope with it, through the years. It’s far from perfect, but it generally works.

If he is happy, he grins and pats shoulders. If he is sad or angry or anything in between, he gets himself involved in a fistfight. If he is turned on, he finds a stranger to fuck.

But what is he supposed to do when he is in love?

Even the thought of admitting out loud that he has fallen for you makes his lips twist in a bitter grin. He wonders how long it will take for you to realize you deserve so much better than a fucked up, morally twisted killer with anger issues.

Not that he is able to tell you as much.

To say he is surprised you decide to stay even after you come in contact with some parts of his job and world he tried to keep away from you, is the understatement of the century. You see him for exactly who he is and you still decide to stay by his side.

You accept him and he inevitably gives you his heart.

Tangerine is so stunned that he doesn’t know what to do. He tries to convey the depth of his adoration for you with sex. Sex is great and intense and frequent, and you are both clearly happy about that.

However, you throw him off balance again when he realizes you think he is capable to offer you more than mere physical satisfaction.

What if you are mistaken?

Lemon slaps his brother’s neck when Tangerine talks about it, staring with a frown at his glass of bourbon in the badly lit pub.

In front of them lays Tangerine’s smartphone where your last text blinks happily and innocent I hope you are having a good day! See you tonight, T! Love you!!! Say hi to Lemon for me!

Ignoring his brother’s glare, Lemon points out that, even if neither of them have any experience with a normal couple dynamic, you probably really, really love Tangerine, so it’s only natural for you to want to have him around.

Not for sex or expensive gifts or any bullshit like that.

And if Tangerine is so stupid to fuck this up because he cannot truly believe that someone beside Lemon wants him for him, his twin adds looking at Tangerine deadly serious, then Tangerine should break up with you immediately and let you free to find someone who can appreciate unadulterated affection.

Tangerine scoffs at the thought, to hide the sudden surge of fury he feels thinking of you in someone else’s bed, in someone else’s arms. He is a killer, not a prince charming, and even if he wants you happy, he is selfish enough that he wants to be the one who makes you happy, when it comes down to a romantic relationship.

Nobody else. Ever.

Fuck, he truly is elbow deep in what appears to be a proper relationship.

With that realization, a myriad of thoughts he never allowed himself to consider flood his mind.

Tangerine is stunned and a bit bothered he wants - so, so desperately wants - to be held and hugged and just touched softly and gently.

Not only when it comes to sex - which he previously considered the maximum he was able to give or tolerate as a form of physical contact .

Is he touch starved? Absolutely.

Will he ever admit it? Not a chance.

Does it matter? He doesn’t think he does.

He is almost scared at the beginning. You are a natural when it comes to physical affection and a pro with words. You love to walk arm in arm with him, to play with his hair when you are sitting together on the sofa, to hug him when you are happy, and gently massage his back when he wakes up from a nightmare.

You make your presence known and he becomes addicted to it.

Trying to convey it with words and sentences makes him feel stupid, sometimes. Oh, sure he has no problems telling you how beautiful you are or showering you with lewd compliments when he is inside you. He’s also not shy at all when it comes to a public display of affection, always making sure with pride and joy that everybody around you is aware that the two of you are a couple.

When he is away he craves the feeling of your body pressed against his while he sleeps.

He misses the affectionate gesture of you adjusting his necktie, your fingers adoringly brushing against his neck and nape, while you ask him to be careful during his assignment. The gentle kiss you give him in the mornings to wake him up calling softly for him, if you are the first to wake up. Your hand holding his when you stroll through a crowd, happily chatting about your colleagues or a tv show you watched last week.

He loves you.

Since he doesn’t seem able to find the words, he goes with the actions.

Wanting to introduce you to the things he loves, he brings you in posh restaurants where he indulges in fine wines and complicated dishes - never, ever letting you pay for anything, just wanting to see what you like or dislike.

Compliments are insufficient to describe how much he adores your appearance, so he buys you the most exquisite clothes and the most sparkling jewellery - unless said jewellery is around some else’s neck or fingers and he needs to steal it.

He lends you his favourite books and ask you to watch together movies he thinks you are gonna like - and in return he watches and reads basically everything you present him.

He hides a sort of childish shyness towards romantic words with grins and kisses on the top of your nose, and hugs when you don’t expect them - it makes you giggle and he can’t stop himself from kissing you.

He doesn’t speak often about how he feels in regard of your relationship, but it shows you constantly that he is there with you, that he wants you in his life - if he’s away, he sends you a message, no matter how short, to let you know that they are alive and mostly fine.

You understand all of this and you wouldn’t want him in any other way.

And you tell him as much.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x me #tangerine #imagine tangerine #tanbergine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #tangerine x plus size reader #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train fanfic #bullet train movie

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jamespottersmixtape · 8 months

Text

september 9: ocean 1,118 words @rosekiller-microfic

Beach day! Just them being stupid and soft and in love :,)

Evan stretches his arms and legs languidly across the beach towel he's laying on. The fabric is littered with warm sand that has long since fallen off of his body, leaving behind patches of sunscreen where it clashed with the water. He can smell the salt drying in his hair, a breeze hitting his face as he squints at the sky.

It's days like today that make Evan believe in perfection—or, as close to perfection as something can get. The weather is lovely, bright sun and a cloudless sky, a cooling wind coming in from the west. The ocean waves lap against the shore in small swells, cold but bearable for swimming in the heat, and the sound of the water is a calming lull, set to draw people into it's shimmering depths.

He can hear children laughing with their parents, splashing and making sandcastles without a care in the world. It almost makes him ache for the childhood he never got—his family too hung up on stuffy suits and formal dinners to register what their kids might want—but he's past that now. That life is far behind him and not once has Evan ever looked back. Besides, he's far too content to sit and dwell on the past right now. He'd much rather bask in everything the coast has to offer him, and continue to ignore whoever keeps shouting his name in the distance.

He smiles to himself. Everything is perfect.

"Evan!"

He internally groans and closes his eyes. Maybe whoever is yelling will think he's asleep and decide not to bother him.

"Evann!!"

The voice is getting closer now. He thought everyone went to get snacks? Who is yelling? Why are they yelling?

"EVAN!" Before he knows it the voice is directly above him, and an entire bottle of water is being dumped on his face.

He startles with a very unmanly yelp, his eyes flying open to find Barty keeled over in laughter, water bottle in hand, and Regulus standing next to him looking rather irritated. "What the fuck?!" Evan asks, wiping the dripping water from his cheeks.

"What do you mean, what the fuck, we've been calling you for two minutes," Regulus huffs, taking a small step away from Barty as he chokes out the rest of his laughs.

Evan glares at the pair of them. "Why?"

"They ran out of cookies and cream," Barty shrugs, laughter still evident in the way his eyes are lit up.

"You–" he sighs, running fingers through his tangled wet hair. "You dumped water on me because they ran out of my favorite ice cream?" Sometimes Evan can't believe he fell in love with this man.

"We didn't know what else you wanted," Regulus says flatly. Evan can tell he's trying to hold back a smile. Asshole.

Evan scoffs, getting up from his now soaked towel and grumbling something along the lines of been my friends for 12 years and can't even remember what ice cream I like.

"Look, my fucking hair is all wet again. I just spent an hour drying off and you ruined it," he pouts, shoving a finger harshly into Barty's chest; they both know there's no bite beneath his words.

Barty snorts, taking Evan's hand in his as they walk towards the small ice cream shop located right off the beach. "You should've seen your face baby."

Evan's cheeks heat at the term of endearment. He can't remember when Barty started calling him that, but one day it appeared and never left, a new staple in Barty's 'Evan vocabulary'. Evan can't say he minds, in fact he's grown rather fond of the name.

"Dickhead," he grumbles in retaliation. "You're mean."

"Mmm, but that's why you love me." Barty presses a quick and sloppy kiss to his cheek before he can duck his head.

He rolls his eyes but returns the favor. He can taste the sweat and salt clinging to Barty's skin.

Regulus interrupts with a loud gagging noise. "You two are so fucking weird," he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

—

They get their ice cream without any more hiccups, Evan settling for salted caramel instead and Barty for an obscure chocolate combination. He doesn't even know why they get their own flavors really, him and Barty always trade halfway through—but he supposes that's the fun of it.

The four of them—it's just him, Barty, Regulus, and James today—spend the rest of the afternoon in and out of the water. They sunbathe, James hits a volleyball around—even roping Barty into a game or two, something Evan never would've seen coming—and Evan manages to carry Barty's lanky frame all the way to the shoreline to toss him in. It was revenge, okay?

By the time the sun is setting the two couples are sprawled a short distance from each other, watching the pink and orange hues dance along the horizon before the stars come out to play.

Evan has his back to Barty's chest, resting between his legs with both their hands entwined over Evan's stomach. Every so often Barty presses a kiss to Evan's temple.

It's rare for the two of them to have such tender moments like this, especially in the company of others. Usually they reserve their soft touches and quiet whispers for the tranquility of the morning or weekends at home, but it's a nice change to be so open with vulnerable affection.

"Today was fun," Evan yawns, his body finally catching up with the day's exhaustion.

Barty hums in agreement. “I’m gonna get you back for throwing me in the ocean though,” he murmurs, nipping at Evan’s earlobe.

“Excuse me, that was my payback.”

“Just saying," he lulls in a sing-song voice. "You better watch your back Ev.”

"I'll be sure to sleep with one eye open."

They both laugh at that, content and serene in the little bubble they've created. Evan tries to snuggle further into Barty's chest but to no avail. Barty lets him drop against the towel, swinging himself over Evan's body so his face hovers inches above his.

Evan raises an eyebrow. Barty's grin is devilish when it breaks across his face. He leans down and slots their lips together for a quick kiss, one filled with sun and ice cream and salty air.

When Barty speaks it's low, just for the two of them. A quiet I love you exchanged between an inhale and exhale. Three words that always open the floodgates to Evan's guarded heart.

The day ends with the two of them curled up on their sides, legs tangled and clothes dusted with sand as the last sliver of light dips below the water.

Evan couldn't ask for anything better.

#I can't make anything below 1k it's an issue #THEYRE AT THE BEACH #AND HAPPY #something simple and silly #soft rosekiller you will always have my heart #made myself want to cry writing this #pls evan was so dramatic #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #barty x evan #evan x barty #rat's silly microfics

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saltymongoose · 1 year

Note

AHH OK CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE YAN JORGE AND CHURCH HCS?

Yes, I can and I shall. Enjoy! ;)

General Yan!Church and Yan!Jorge Headcanons

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, mentions of blood.)

> Church and Jorge are not the types to be hidden in their affections at all. Once they start feeling strong affection for you, it’s obvious to everyone in the vicinity, which is of course how they found out about each other’s “thing” for you. Jorge couldn’t ignore how Church insisted that you were the only one besides himself who could handle his gear or tune his weapons, and similarly, Jorge’s own increasingly affectionate treatment of you was hardly subtle. Even when they started to become a bit more intense in their actions, the heightened focus on showing you their love was mirrored between the two.

> To everyone’s surprise, this just became another thing for them to sort of bond with each other over, instead of causing the infighting they assumed. In the G03LM’s minds, it made total sense; of course the other would love you, not loving you was just plain stupid. Plus, they operate on the same wavelength most of the time anyway, so their bro liking the same person is fine with them. There’s no one else Church or Jorge would rather share you with, and as it happens, this is what really eggs them on to make you know just how much they both care for you.

> Neither are really the type to do typical romantic gestures like give you flowers they picked or write soliloquies to describe your beauty, but they do flirt with you a lot. You’d swear that “good lookin’” was practically another name for you now with how often Jorge purrs it to you in a greeting, and then there was the rare “sweetcheeks” from Church. They aren’t exactly the most flowery terms of endearment, but then again, neither of them seemed the type to do that to begin with, so you were still surprised.

> In fact, they call you those so often that they almost caught on with other grunts as well. But attempts to make those nicknames a regular thing were quickly stopped by none other than Church and Jorge themselves; it was their thing with you, and only theirs.

> (Jorge paused from cleaning his gun when he heard one of the other technicians call out to you with his name for you. He leaned down to them and grinned behind his mask when they shrank back a bit. “Hah, that’s real funny pal. But if you call them that again I’ll crush you.” Point taken.)

> Jorge also lavishes you with praise and compliments constantly, for the most simple of actions and when you least expect it. He’s particularly fond of this way of showing affection to you, and he considers it his mission to make you know how much he loves everything about you. Everything from the way your brows furrow when you’re confused to innocuous things like the precise way you prefer your coffee and the way you look so focused when working. Although sometimes his comments can be weirdly specific. For someone who you assumed didn’t know that much about you, the fact he can list off certain more intimate things he knows about you so offhandedly is a bit unnerving.

> (It’s just because he spends a lot of time looking at you, but you didn’t know the true depth of it. It was easy to keep it secret, with how hidden his gaze is behind his mask.)

> For the record, Church also compliments you, but they’re typically shorter and more blunt. He’ll just state that you’re really pretty as though it’s a universally known fact, which it is in his mind. He’ll also fight anyone who says otherwise, but he’s always itching for a chance to pummel someone on your behalf, so it’s something you’re kind of used to now. It’s weirdly flattering regardless, but you try not to encourage it too much.

> Jorge and Church also give you presents frequently as well; usually weapons and other trinkets as “battle trophies” from grunts they faced in combat, oftentimes still bloody. You’re grossed out a bit by just how much gore they track into the building whenever they find something new to gift you, but seeing them perk up proudly whenever you thank them for it makes up for it. They seem so happy whenever you show an ounce of gratitude for their presents, punching the air and fist-bumping each other when you simply smile at them while holding whatever they gave you. You might even say it’s cute, although using such an adjective for the violent mercs seems a tad inappropriate.

> (Half of the time you’re not even sure what to do with the things they bring you, but now you have an entire wall full of weapons and armor pieces from them. It’d be useful if you ever need to get into a fight, but you’re just a technician.)

> (Of course, you don’t know how many of those special things are from people who were once threats and were foolish enough to pose a threat to your relationship with them. They really should’ve known better, it’s not like Church or Jorge had tried to hide what you were to them. Hopefully the rest of your coworkers would take a hint from the red they tracked in, and the missing presence of some of the people you shared a shift with.)

> They drop any and every conversation they have just to make you a part of it once you enter the room, including important mission briefings from Sheriff. (Oh well. He just has to get that you’re more important.) You’ll also find yourself physically close to them more often than not; it’s common for you to have to try to ignore how they crowd in on your space whenever they catch sight of you. It’s not like you work with them often - you’re not exactly a mercenary or field worker - so when they decide to spend virtually all of their downtime around you, it’s very noticeable.

> They’re also quite touchy with you; you’re going to be picked up by one of them and bear-hugged at least once every day, and luckily they are very gentle with you, so you never have to worry about being harmed by their armor or squeezed too tight. They’d rather die than hurt you, so their grip on you is always soft, and when they nudge against you with their masked face (their version of a kind of kiss, unbeknownst to you), it isn’t hard enough to cause any damage. If they had it their way, you’d always be in their arms, and they even try to take turns with it just to be fair.

> (As an additional bonus, if you’re snuggled up in Church or Jorge’s embrace, no one bothers them and tries to get you away. It's the perfect way to keep you all to themselves, and their loud purring shows just how pleased they are about this.)

> Church is definitely the quieter of the two, but also the one more likely to rough someone up if they affront you in some way. The other members of MERC know better than to get too close to you now, since attempts to be all buddy-buddy with you (or god forbid, flirt with you) were shut down by the mohawked G03LM’s fists. Literally.

> (With how often Church was around you, he got pretty good at reading you. So when he heard you laugh uncomfortably and snapped his attention to you to find one of the other grunts leaning way too close to you for even your taste, he was quick to get rid of the problem. It’s the least he could do, for someone he adores so much.)

> You’ve had a talk with Church about, well, massacring your coworkers whenever you happened to take an off day (at least he’s polite enough not to do it in front of you), so he’s not likely to hurt them too badly now. But it just so happens that Church also knows that you can cause a lot of damage that doesn’t lead to death all the time, which some might even consider worse.

> (Sheriff is now more concerned than ever about healthcare costs for MERC. Perhaps he can cut another deal with the Nexus Core?)

> Jorge is more the type to just threaten the other mercenaries, but he isn’t above getting physical along with Church to break a few (many) bones if he thinks the situation calls for it. Which happens more often than not, if you’re not in their vicinity.

> (They’d honestly be offended if you thought they’d forget the way that prick Sheriff just hired was giving you googly eyes. The little twerp just has to learn his place, and as your partners, there’s no one better to teach them.)

> Despite how they will deliberately target the others in your faction when they know you won’t be around, they still want to show off around you. There’s always an open invitation for you to observe their training, and Jorge is always quick to remind you of this. When you do watch them fight, they naturally put a lot more effort into fighting. They already love the thrill of it, but feeling your eyes on them just invigorates them like nothing else.

> If it weren’t for the fact that the two are so dangerous, the fact that you have them completely wrapped around your finger without knowing it would be funny to everyone else. Anything you even mention once will be noted by them, and while they might not be the most efficient at fetching it/completing some task you need finished, they’ll find some way to fulfill your wishes. Even if it means threatening asking someone else to do it for them, or going to the very ends of Nexus City and fighting through hoards of random bandits and zeds to bring back a single tool you’d simply like to have someday, they’ll do it happily. And of course, they’ll be chatting with each other the entire time about how cute you are, and how they can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize what they’ve done for you.

> Both of them routinely refer to you as their partner, and they mean it in every sense of the word. Ever since they fell for you so hard, there’s no one else Church and Jorge would be willing to go to for tune-ups and other jobs that needed more technical expertise present. But they also mean it in the romantic sense as well. In their eyes, they’d already made it explicitly clear to everyone else that you were together. They just need to go a step further to get you to acknowledge it as well. Plus, you’d never outright rejected their advances before, so they just know you return their affections. Maybe you’re just shy about it compared to them.

> It doesn't matter to them how long it takes you to understand and eventually officially requite what they feel because Church and Jorge are willing to work at this for however long is needed. They're not going to quit when they know they're so close to having you completely and being able to show you all of their love to its truest extent. Besides, they're G03LMs; Church and Jorge can be brought back from whatever form of the afterlife Nevada has for as long as needed. If they can fight off death itself, then no one stands a chance at taking you from them, so your being with them is completely inevitable. That's all there is to it.

#tw: yandere #tw: violence #they are actually surprisingly tame for yanderes tbh #my writing #yandere madness combat #yandere madcom #yandere church #yandere jorge #church x reader #jorge x reader #madness combat x reader

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stellaricwriting · 5 months

Note

Hello!! I was wondering if you could go in-depth with what sex would be like with Poly! Vex Scar and Cub? You said you would but you never did.

No need to if you don't want to though :) -🐀

i have the memory of something small and stupid

CLINGY

SO CLINGY

also possessive but in a smug way because they have you and no one else does, which also leads into so so sooo much marking

their teamwork is honestly crazy good. they have absolutely talked about how to ruin you most efficiently/fastest before and they are ready and eager to put those plans into action

marking!! endless hickeys and bite marks, but also carefully placed finger shaped bruises, little scattered stars of vex magic left burning under your skin like glowing freckles (they'll fade, in days or hours, and they'll pout every time)

wear their clothes and they'll go bonkers obsessed. HOWEVER! if you wear one's clothes you better also be wearing the other's because otherwise they'll sulk and pout and Remember it the next time you ask for something

you ask them to pass your water bottle and they're like sorry i dont help traitors (they are already passing you the bottle and also one of their shirts put it on put it on put it on right now)

definitely the types where if you're having sex with one and not the other, the other will show up during and pull the whole 'without me????'

sometimes they work together and fuck you together, but equally they're content to just be there while the other fucks you silly

cub likes to watch, to lounge on the bed next to you as scar takes you apart piece by piece and makes you come until you can't think anymore. you'll come out of your fourth orgasm gasping for air with cub cooing as he pets your hair

scar likes to hold you for cub, to croon praise and giggled little comments while cub sets about making sure you can't walk for the next few days. he likes to nuzzle against your cheek, your neck, like he's going to kiss you, but he's just having so much fun

listen.

if you're down for double penetration? they're willing and eager and so very excited. they spend what feels like ages prepping you for it, to the point where you're like guys c'mon can we plEASE get to it and they'll just be like no.

they're not okay with hurting you unless you've asked for it (literal) and it's been pre-negotiated. do they go overboard prepping you? maybe so, but they'll deny it (unless its funny)

i'm just gonna say it. these bitches? both switches.

do they love teaming up and wrecking you? absolutely. are they also equally excited at being the one teamed up on? absolutely

scar is an exhibitionist and cub is a voyeur. this works out great for when they wanna fool around in public, have a scene involving getting caught fucking in someone's poor shop. they're both a bit too possessive to actually risk someone seeing you, but the thrill is something they love

back on marking, please mark them up please they're begging you. you're theirs and they're yours and they want everyone to know it constantly

if there's a kink or scene you wanna try out, they're down for it. as long as it's been talked about thoroughly and safewords (or actions) have been put in place? they're just as excited as you are

listen. fear play.

also they're the type to use magic on you generously, be it vex or otherwise. what's the point in having it if not to have fun

#stellaric.exe #spice.txt #scr.txt #cbf.txt #thank u i have the memory of a goldfish

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 36: Unexpected Meetings

Conflict in Calodan may put you, the Mandalorian and Grogu in greater danger than you realized. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 3.7K

“I’m not just staying with Grogu on the ship.”

Din sighed.

“Cyare.”

“Din.”

“Patu.”

You looked down to the child in your arms, his little mouth drawn into a concerned line. You smiled a little.

“He agrees,” you said, looking to the Mandalorian. “Too worried about leaving his dad to fight on his own, he thinks we should come.”

Din sighed.

“You can’t just claim he said what you want him to say, Doll,” he said. “Doesn’t work that way.”

You glared at him.

The Mandalorian had made a deal with the Jedi: in exchange for some guidance on how to help guide the child through his growing skills in the force, he would help her rid Calodan of Imperial forces.

It was a stupid deal on Ahsoka’s part in your opinion - not that you were about to say anything to that end. Din probably would have paid her for the opportunity to kill Imperials. Maker knew you would. But you desperately wanted as much help with the child as you could get.

The urge to help him and understand him was strong. You were having a hard time remembering the last time you felt quite this desperate for anything that wasn’t life or death - or Din. But the child - Grogu, still an adjustment knowing his name - had quickly become the center of your universe. You wanted to give him everything he could want or need, including an understanding of himself and the power that flowed through him. And, apparently, you.

Not knowing made you strangely uncomfortable.

When it came to big things, you always knew. You knew how to survive. You knew how to kill. You knew how to pull vital information from bodies you’d broken and minds you’d warped to suit your needs. You knew how to accept death. There was safety in knowing.

But lately, there had been an almost monumental amount of not knowing. You did not know how to be loved, not really, not in the way that Din and the child loved you. You did not know how to live with the depth of feeling you had for them, the way it sometimes consumed you, the way it made you afraid to die. And you did not know how to give the child what he needed.

No, you didn’t like not knowing and if Ahsoka was willing to trade something that you’d have given freely in exchange for the comfort of knowledge you weren’t about to argue with her.

You were, however, going to argue with the paranoid Mandalorian who was trying to sequester you in the ship away from any potential danger.

“Are you going to treat me like glass from here on out?” You asked, trailing behind him as he gathered supplies around the Crest.

“I’m going to protect what’s mine from the Empire,” he said, adding cartridges to his belt. “Call it what you want.”

“So I just don’t get a say?” You asked.

“My hunt,” he replied, moving to another panel. “You get a say when it’s yours.”

“What if I want to protect what’s mine?” You demanded, the child still on your hip.

“You can do that by staying on the ship with him.”

“Din.”

“Cyare.”

You ground your teeth.

“I want to protect you, too,” you said. “You said you were mine. I want to keep you safe.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t need it.”

He started down the ramp of the Crest and you stalked after him.

“Either we can make a plan for this together or you can deal with me figuring out how to contribute all on my own,” you said. “I’m not going to just hide away while you take care of problems…”

He stopped in the middle of the ramp and turned around slowly. You were far enough behind him that you were the same height. You thrust your chin out defiantly, jaw set firm.

“You would really put him at risk to get your way,” he said cooly.

“No,” you said. “And I think we both know this has nothing to do with your concern about my ability to keep Grogu safe.”

“Patu.”

“Thank you,” you looked down at the baby, who smiled, even though you had no idea what he said.

The Mandalorian came back up the ramp, close enough that he was taller than you again. His beskar glinted in the sun. He raised one gloved hand and cupped your cheek and you pressed your face into his palm like you always did. You couldn’t resist it.

“Not losing you again,” he said softly.

“I’m not losing you, either,” you said. “So let me help. It’s a whole city of Imps, it’s too much for you and one Jedi. I know how to handle myself, Din. I know how to kill Imperials, it’s one of the things I’m best at. If it will really make you feel better, I’ll do something out of the way, but don’t lock me away because you’re paranoid.”

He held your face a moment longer before taking his hand back.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But you have to do what I say and if it looks bad, get back to the ship and lock yourselves in. Imperials are after you and him, it’s not safe.”

“Safe is relative,” you smiled a little.

The Mandalorian settled on you perching on a roof with Grogu so you could pick off incoming Imperials from where they were trying to move civilians. Simple enough, though you could tell Din wasn’t happy about it.

He stood at the corner of the building you were about to scale, the child and your rifle strapped to your back.

“Still don’t like this,” he muttered. “Last time…”

“Last time we didn’t have coms,” you said. “And last time we didn’t know if we could even expect a fight. Now we do.”

“If it looks like things are turning…” he began, but you cut him off.

“Mando,” you reached up and held his helmet, your thumb slipping into the contour of it. “It’ll be fine.”

“Promise you’ll go for the ship, Doll,” he said, his voice hard. You sighed. “I mean it.”

“I promise.”

He touched his cool metal forehead to your own.

“See you soon,” you smiled a little before pulling away from him and climbing the building.

You got set easily on the roof, setting the child beside you. You gave him the toy from Nevarro and he cooed.

“See, he really should be happy you don’t want to just play with blasters,” you muttered, setting your sights. “Talk about dangerous…”

“Patu.”

“Exactly,” you said even though you didn’t know what he’d actually tried to say.

The fight below reminded you just how much you hated not knowing. You could see signs of the Mandalorian and the Jedi’s progress through the city, ripples of noise and smoke, waves of people rushing to escape.

When an Imperial slipped through, you sighted them and - when you were certain of the shot - fired.

It was just a trickle at first, but then more and more arrived, trying to stem the flow of fleeing citizens. Smoke and the sound of blasters were spreading through the city and you were taking out troopers and officers one by one. You tried to watch for those who posed the biggest threat - anyone ready to fire on someone became a priority. Then there were those who seemed like they were figuring out that the shots dropping their comrades were coming from on high and not from the flood of people pushing back against them. You weren’t eager to give up your position or have to deal with stormtroopers trying to get to you. But before too long, it was too obvious that there was a sniper taking down their troops.

One of the officers grabbed a woman with a baby in her arms and pressed a blaster to her head, looking around at the roofline until he spotted the flash of your rifle. You ground your teeth.

They were too far away to hear, especially over the chaos of the conflict, but you could see the terror on her face, the cruel snarl on the face of the officer. You glanced down at the child who looked up at you, his eyes wide and ears down low. He wasn’t fully afraid but he was stressed.

“Think you can help me with something?” You asked. He just looked back at you. “We’re going to be a team, you and me. It’s OK if it doesn’t work but…”

You put the bag with him back on your back and raised the rifle, hands up in surrender as you peered over the ledge of the roof. The officer was pointing your way, moving closer to you.

You relaxed your mind and reached out for the child, trying to communicate what you were going to do as best you could. You could feel him tapping into your thoughts but could only feel a sense of assurance coming back. You’d take that as a yes.

You got to your feet, staying ducked behind the ledge as much as you could, keeping your rifle visible. You couldn’t see shit this way, you could really only hope that the officer hadn’t killed the woman or her child yet. If he was smart he wouldn’t have.

When you were positioned, you took a deep breath and glanced over your shoulder, even though Grogu was completely concealed inside his bag.

“Here we go, kiddo,” you said.

In one movement, you dropped the rifle and jumped up, landing on the ledge of the roof. You stayed there only for a moment, a fraction of a second, just long enough to take your blaster from your thigh before you jumped over the side of the building.

It was only 2 stories up, about 25 feet. The landing would be rough but wouldn’t do much damage - it would just be a hell of a lot better if the kid could catch you first.

“Soft landing soft landing soft landing!” You chanted, hoping that he knew what you meant. You got off a few shots on the way down, the two troopers nearest to your landing spot both down.

Grogu had understood your request, your fall suddenly stopping about a foot before you hit the ground - there was nothing sharp about it, almost like you’d fallen into gelatin and all your kinetic energy had been dispersed. You hung in the air for a fraction of a second before you dropped the rest of the way.

“Great job, kiddo!” You called over your shoulder as you ran for the officer.

He’d been stupid enough to move closer to your position as you’d faked surrender and hadn’t seemed to have caught up with what you were doing quite yet, still looking around frantically for where you’d gone, blaster still against the woman’s skull. You shot him from the side before he’d realized you were coming.

Except now you were on the ground in the press of people without a good vantage point, people fleeing and fighting around you.

When you spotted a stormtrooper, you shot them as you worked your way to the edge of the street, trying to find something you could climb up even just a few feet to see over the crowd.

You settled for a clothing stand, climbing quickly onto the table that put you head and shoulders above everyone around you. You angled your body so that the backpack with the child was out of the line of fire and started picking off troopers again, out of the way enough that you hadn’t drawn much attention.

It only took a few moments for you to be absorbed by it, by the act of shooting and killing. It was something you knew so well, something you’d been trained for. You’d been built and shaped to do exactly this, defend others from those who wished to do them harm. Trained to levy as much damage as possible in as little time as you could manage. The faster you could kill an enemy, the better chance you had of wiping out enough to get your charge to safety.

The people and the troopers kept coming and you kept shooting. You were so lost in it that, when you had a sudden twinge of anticipatory fear, it shocked you out of it. The twinge came half a second before a blaster bolt caught your hip, sending you flying.

You twisted in the air so you landed on your front, only jostling the precious cargo on your back. Another blaster bolt whizzed over your head and you rolled onto your side, quickly aiming past your feet and firing, dropping the trooper who’d dropped you.

Your hand went to your hip, the fabric of your pants scorched and bloody. It must have been a glancing shot, otherwise you’d probably have been a lot worse off.

Getting back up hurt but it wasn’t more than you could handle, more concerned about what Din was going to do when he saw that you were injured.

“Fucking Imps,” you muttered, shooting another one as he came around a corner.

The flow of them slowed quickly then, and soon the press of people just innocents instead of armored thugs. You leaned against a wall on your uninjured side, watching for more just in case, waiting for the Mandalorian to finish his hunt.

***

You weren’t where Din had left you.

Ahsoka had made quick work of the Magistrate while he - and you, from what he could see of the Imperial bodies that littered the street - took down troopers to give civilians a chance at survival. The moment things had settled - the second the Jedi emerged victorious - he went for you.

He’d been away from you for too long already. He could feel the distance in his chest, its grip violent and harsh. He couldn’t see you, he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t be sure that you were alive and well.

The last time you’d been out of his sight like this you’d been taken, tortured, nearly killed. He should have held his ground with you, insisted that you stay on the ship - lock it down without giving you the information on how to get out of the damn thing. Sure, you’d have raged at him but you would have been in one piece. He’d have known that.

But you weren’t on the roof. The only sign that you’d ever been on the roof was your rifle - left abandoned behind the ledge. He picked it up, slung it on his back before he looked around quickly, scanning the street below, looking for some sign of you. He didn’t see it.

His chest got tighter.

“Cyare!” He yelled it, stepping onto the ledge of the roof and dropping onto the street below, looking to see if he could catch some signature of you that he could track. He was about to go for the com link when he spotted you, limping slightly as you made your way toward him. He scowled. Of course you’d left your post. Of course you’d dropped into the fight. Of course you’d gotten hurt.

He stalked over to you, looking you over, quickly spotting the shot at your hip.

“I thought you understood what happens when you disobey an order on a hunt,” he growled. You glared up at him.

“They were going to kill a woman with a baby and I couldn’t get a clean shot off from the roof,” you snapped. “I made the right call.”

He grabbed you and pulled you against him, holding you tightly to his chest. Your arms slowly went around his waist.

“I’m OK,” you said into his armor. The ache in him finally eased. “We’re both OK.”

He held onto you as the four of you made your way out of city, Ahsoka giving him the beskar spear the Magistrate had offered him in exchange for killing the Jedi. It was more than a fair deal.

Din was ready to get off this planet. Between the feeling he’d come with, the dread of leaving here with out the child and the grip of fear at being away from you, he wanted to be back on his ship with you and Grogu. Somewhere he knew was safe. Somewhere he had control.

“Our people may have had their disagreements,” Ahsoka said, looking between the Mandalorian and you. “But I believe we work far better together as allies than we ever did as enemies.”

“Thank you, for your help with Grogu,” he nodded once.

“I trust…” she began and frowned, looking up to the sky. A fraction of a second later, you did too, half a moment before there was the distinctive howl of an Imperial ship overhead. But it wasn’t just a troop transport. Someone else, someone more than just more muscle for the magistrate, was aboard that craft.

“Din,” you looked at him. Your eyes were wide.

“Go,” Ahsoka ordered, igniting her sabers. “Get Grogu out of here, I’ll hold them off…”

The Mandalorian took you by the wrist and started running, not sure if it would be faster to pick you up in your injured state. He didn’t have time to figure it out, the ship setting down directly in front of him, Ahsoka running along side you.

He started to pull you to the side when a bolt fired from the ship, forcing him back the way he came as the ramp lowered. Din positioned himself in front of you, blaster drawn, waiting for what felt like the inevitable.

His mind ran through options. What could he do to get you and Grogu out of here alive? Nothing else mattered. The entire fucking planet could go up in smoke so long as the two of you left in one piece. He would make that happen. He’d get you out of here if it was the last thing he did.

“Din Djarin!”

The Mandalorian’s blood ran cold.

“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Moff Gideon strode down the ramp of the ship, smiling pleasantly. As though he’d arrived for tea. “When I was told the Magistrate needed assistance handling the locals, I can’t say I expected to find you here. Especially not with a Jedi.”

His eyes ranged over Ahsoka.

“Of course, you never became a true Jedi master, did you, Ahsoka?” He said, looking mildly amused. “Were your skills just not up to par? Or was the timing just… not right?”

She snarled but stayed near Din, sabers ready.

Gideon’s eyes traveled to you, going a little wide. He was silent for a moment.

“Now you truly are someone I didn’t expect to see here,” he said. “Or ever again. It seems the rumors of your death are indeed exaggerated, Handmaid.”

“Not my fault Imps are bad at their jobs,” you snapped. “Your information gathering was always lacking.”

“But yours wasn’t, was it?” He asked, prowling closer, stormtroopers pouring off the craft at his back, all armed to the teeth. Din stepped back, closer to you. “No, you were the only interrogator to ever break one of my men. We may have even lost the war because of you, all because you were able to evacuate the rebel fleet when we were almost positioned to destroy it. Oh I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”

“Get ready to start over,” you said.

“I’ll make you three a deal,” he said. “Give me the child - who I know must be here somewhere even if he’s just out of sight - and the rest of you can go.”

You moved closer to Din, your hand slipping into his. You squeezed his fingers twice, like you were trying to signal him, but he wasn’t sure of what.

“No takers?” He asked. “Fine, another offer. Handmaid, hand yourself over to me. I’m sure you have enough information to keep us busy for a while. Give yourself to me and I’ll let them go, for now. Your sacrifice will give them a decent head start.”

Din could almost feel you considering it. He tightened his hold on your fingers. You started to pull away from him, he felt you moving.

His chest clenched tight again. He moved without thinking, grabbing his blaster and firing.

Gideon expected it.

Ahsoka did, too.

The Jedi moved so quickly he could barely see it, sabers flying, deflecting blaster bolts.

“GO!” She screamed it.

Din kept one hand firmly in yours, shooting as he ran, Ahsoka like a shield, deflecting almost everything and his beskar handling the rest.

He wasn’t worried about killing troopers or Gideon or taking out the Imperial craft. He was outgunned, outmanned. His best hope was running. The only way you would survive was running.

So he ran with you.

At the line of troopers, Ahsoka broke away, the sabers a blur. The moment blaster bolts were no longer ringing off his armor, he grabbed you, swinging you into his arms and taking off with his jetpack, flying straight for the Crest.

“We have to go back!” You yelled it, twisting in his grip. “We can’t just leave her!”

He ignored you, flying into the hold and depositing you and the child on the floor of the hold, closing the ramp and running to the cockpit. You followed close behind, hissing as you climbed the ladder with your injured hip.

“You have to go back!”

“Buckle in,” he ordered, starting the ship, grinding his teeth.

“Din!”

“I know, Cyare!”

It took everything he had to not just take off and jump. He liked the Jedi. He was thankful for what she’d done for Grogu. But if he had to choose between her and you or her and the child, it was never going to be her.

Ahsoka was still alive as the Crest made it to Gideon’s ship. She was fighting Gideon himself, deflecting blaster bolts with one saber, defending from his attacks with the dark saber with the other. She was too close to the ship for him to hit that, but he took aim at the surrounding troopers and fired, wiping out several dozen in just a few shots.

The ship redirected its weapons.

“That’s all we can do,” he said as he took the ship up as fast as he could push it, slipping out of the atmosphere and jumping away.

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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